A Dance with Demons
by FlameAngel24
Summary: A wise man once said we all create our own demons, and in turn, we must destroy the demons we create. But how far would one go to destroy a single demons to save the lives of those they love?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"_Human beings, we have dark sides; we have dark issues in our lives. To progress anywhere in life, you have to face your demons."- John Noble_

* * *

The battlefield was silent.

Imperials and Stormcloaks littered the ground, tangled together like lovers with painted faces of horror. Though they fought for two different sides, the men here died the same. These men were once proud and loyal like lions, and tore each other apart just the same. However, for as much loyalty and pride as they possessed, they fought senselessly. In truth, what were they truly fighting for? These solders- these men- died like lambs to protect their lords' honor. High above, the carrion birds began to circle and then swooped down to begin their feast upon the dead, picking out flesh and eyes, or squabbling over a chunk of bone marrow.

Erin stepped mutely over the dead. People said that blood was thicker than water, but not on this day. It ran like the rain that poured overhead. She had seen battle before, and how a man's blood began to stir because of it. She had watched from a distance, she had watched Shield-Brothers and Sisters turn against the other simply because of their lord's command.

Soldiers, in simplicity, are dogs and chained until their lord releases said chain.

Oh, they thought this was good idea, really they did. Fighting for the freedom of Skyrim seemed like an excellent plan, or even defending the White-Gold Concordant and the Empire seemed to be a good plan. People of magic knew better, however mages aren't without fault, they simply learn where - and where not - to put their footing. They had preferred to stay in seclusion, far from politics and sometimes even other people who weren't mages. But this confounded civil war included everyone in Skyrim, even the mages, the Khajiit, and other free races.

The thought of the civil war expanding made her shudder. Perhaps Tullius would leave, and then Ulfric would calm down. A woman could dream, couldn't she? Her jarl had begun this rebellion, and at first she thought it was good idea. Skyrim was Skyrim; it was a free land not Cyrodiil. But now, she was beginning to have second thoughts about it - the death and emotional toll upon the people was beginning to make her unsettled.

"You aren't one for death, are you?" The voice snapped her from her thoughts and caused her whirl around. "I can feel it radiating from you, my lady."

Erin watched this man, but in the palm of her hand, she conjured lightning forth. She took in the man before her; by his dress he was a Master Wizard, most likely freelance because he did not bear the symbol of Winterhold. The magic about him was wild and touched her mind's shields like a fly tapping glass. Oddly, he stopped circling her and nudged an Imperial Legate with the tip of his boot.

"Men killing each other, such a… Interesting sight," The man commented thoughtfully. Erin's mind released the lightning spell and she remained silent. The man's power intrigued her to say the least. A tiny part of her hissed and growled with fear fueling its fury. Had she not been a stronger sorceress, she might've lost control of that spirit within herself. She mentally quieted the hissing creature.

She gained enough confidence to allow her voice to surface, "Who are you?" She demanded. The man glanced up from the prodding of the dead Legate. His gaze was like that of a predator, or a hunter watching prey. He smiled wryly and moved toward her and her mind threw up even stronger walls to prevent him access to her mind. "Why are you here?"

"I wish to speak with the Sorceress of Windhelm," The man replied smoothly. "You are the lady of Windhelm, are you not?"

"I am," Erin replied. This man was strange; mages, especially those who were freelance, rarely ever went near other mages from Winterhold. To think, he had walked up to her as if she were a friend and spoke to her openly. No formalities, no nothing, just him and his sly appearance. Men possessed such nerves though, women where a bit more secluded and preferred the company of their own kindred. "Well, I suspect if you wandered all this way, you must have good reasoning. Speak."

The man walked up to her silently. She could not see his face or his eyes, but only his mouth and the tail of a braid that held a hawk feather. The tail of said braid was a mixture of black and silver hair giving her the impression that the man was around her age, maybe a few years younger. His lips were tight and pulled back into a foxily grin.

"Have you ever thought about ending this?" The man asked making a sweeping gesture to the dead bodies around them.

"Ever since I have been the one to heal the men and women being cut by blades, yes. But I support the man I serve with every bit of my soul," Erin saw his smile fall.

"But do _you_ want to end this war?"

"Yes, I do. What of it?"

"Perhaps, I could give you an alternative. Clearly, this war needs to end, but it is not going to end if men are slaughtering each other like sheep."

Erin's eyes narrowed. "What are you suggesting?"

The man sat back on his heels. "You have the power, my lady. But if you and I were to put our heads together, I am sure we could come up with a way to soothe the beasts, no?"

"For whose sake? It would not better the world. It would only cause disdain and loathing to brew in not only Skyrim, but Tamriel as well. Granted, we'd be saving a few hundred lives but it would not stop a bigger threat. Men need to be united, not divided."

"Let me tell you this, my lady. Mages or any other people of magic, belong to a higher group. We are not caretakers or babysitters, but rather predators of magic's far beyond our knowledge." He sighed, playing with the hawk feathers on his braid. "Do you not long to see all races live together? To see the great city of Solitude stand proudly in the sun and not in the shadow of the Imperial Army? Or even to see the city of Windhelm, your city, no longer having racial disputes?"

"Believe me, there are things in this world that I want to see happen, but I know that they will never happen. Certain things like that give Skyrim her charm. I do not wish for it to change, because I quite like the way things will be once this war is over."

This man and his arrogance were beginning to get on Erin's nerves. He was treating her like a child; a mage lecturing a colleague was like smacking one on the wrist. It did no good because they didn't care. This man was toying with her, it was clear to see for Julianos' sake! Perhaps this man was mad, and she was simply giving into his little sick game. No, she wasn't, she was giving him valid reasons to why she does what she does. Though the terror of men bleeding alive bothered her terribly, and could have haunted her steps. She eyed this man-this stranger- hoping by some stroke of luck he would just leave. She wasn't going to let him see that she was bothered by his presence; it simply wasn't done around other mages of power.

"We may try to fix what has been broken, but nonetheless men will still fight men in the end for the cause of their lords. They will bleed for their commanders, and die protecting their land. People, especially Nords, will die fighting. If we take that away, then we are rubbing salt into the wounds upon their pride." Erin continued. "And I will not stand for such treatment of these people."

The man smiled once more, and he challenged with a chuckle. "You love these… Nords?"

That statement stirred the creature within her. It hissed and caused her skin to crawl. She knew many mages that loved the Nords and their culture, but this man seemed to make it out to be an insult. Her inner pride stirred the blood in her veins. One of her dearest friends was a Nord, a great man in fact. This man knew absolutely nothing! She set her shoulders, curious to see how this played out.

"Word has reached my ears that you will die for only one man… Or so the songs tell me. Answer me this; would you die for him still if he destroyed this country?" Remaining silent, she watched the man intently. He crushed the hand of a Stormcloak beneath his boot. "Because I hear that he is quite the reckless Jarl. People say he loves Skyrim, but I know different. I have seen him before. He is just like his father; a man who gets easily lost in the throes of battle."

"You are wrong," Her own voice startled her, she sounded oddly calm. "But you didn't come all this way just to speak about war disputes, did you?"

The visitor chuckled and turned to her and from the shadows of his hood, she saw his eyes glowing from underneath. This man was a Breton, using the magic of High Rock. He was trying to get past her mental barriers. He wanted to share his thoughts with her, be able to share a sort of strange symbiosis that only family members and lovers could possess.

"Smart woman, quick like lightning, I love it," The man laughed as he folded his hands together. "You're right, I didn't come all this way for simple war disputes because I am sure that you hear enough of those back home, no?"

"Yes, considering the times… But tell me, you decided to come to me… why?" He hesitated a long moment, stone grey eyes flickering with his soul's power. He was thinking, savoring the silence a moment. And then at last he spoke in a strange clarity that impressed her.

"My assailant would love for your cooperation upon a matter that requires… Delicate handiwork." She cocked an eyebrow up at his request. He chuckled, "It evolves the strange occurrence of power that happened a few months ago in Helgen. If you help us; we will pay handsomely."

She shook her head. "My services are required elsewhere. Believe me, I have looked into the strange spike of power and nothing has come to my attention. I am sure your… Assailant would understand."

He gave her a sweeping bow, and then rose and flicked back his hood to reveal more of his face. He was clearly a Breton by his facial features, but there were fine wrinkles around his face that told her he was at least a few years older than she. A handsome smile quirked up the sides of his lips, "He will understand… That much I can assure you."

"I do thank you for your offer…" She hesitated not knowing his name. "I never did catch your name, sir."

"I was named after the world, my lady. You may call me Mundus." The visitor addressed. She dipped her head to him and he turned tossing a glance back at her. "I hope to see you once more, Lady Erin."

* * *

_Greetings everyone, welcome to my Skyrim Fan-fiction. A few things before you read: reviews are appreciated, but not if they are negative or a flame, if you have an issue with something please Private Message me, and finally, enjoy yourselves. _

_**Bethesda Softworks has the copyrights to The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim **__  
_

_Please Review! _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Erin sighed as the man left, taking with him the dreadful tension that had built in the air. Mutely, she began cutting away the emblems of Talos, Dibella, and Stendarr from around the necks of both Stormcloaks and Imperials. She cared little for what Ulfric said, these men belonged to Skyrim even if they hadn't lived here all their lives for they now belonged to the snowy mistress.

However, as she collected each emblem she couldn't help but feel inwardly sick. That man, Mundus, had such a terrible aura of power, rivaling the one her own father possessed. His voice was far too calm and collected for her liking and his posture too lax. But what truly astounded her was the intense glow that his eyes took on for a while. Only a Magister – a battlemage of the Direnni Tower – could have such an intense glow in their eyes. How could he have such a thing?

"Mother!" A voice shattered her thoughts and she whirled around to the face the voice. Her beast purred, telling her that it was someone close to her. "Mother, where are you?"

"Here, Avitus," Erin called back, snipping the last emblem free from a fallen Stormcloak General. From the bushes and trees stepped her son, or rather adopted son. He was an Imperial, one could tell by the slightly darker skin tone that was common amongst the people from Cyrodiil. He smiled warmly, and ran up to her, wrapping her in a tight hug. Easily, he towered over her now, seeing as he could rest his head on top of hers. He pulled back and then stared at the amulets in her hands, before he could say anything more she spoke. "Ulfric asked it of me, and no, I didn't fight."

"Good," Avitus said, readjusting his mage robes and cloak. "I'll be back; I need to find the horses."

"You left them alone?" She smiled, shaking her head. "Avitus, my little one, you never did learn after that one incident, did you?"

"All right, I let your cat out of my sight once, _once!_ And what did he do? He ran off and possibly got eaten by wolves," Avitus' voice dwindled off as he disappeared into the bushes once again.

She hid her hands in the sleeves of her robes, trying to soothe her inner beast as it paced about in anger. All of her life she had never been able to soothe it, but if it would give just this once, she would be happy. Erin could almost see it, the way its tail flicked with its eyes locked on the ground. It was silent as it moved and blacker than night as it paced back and in forth.

"Maybe what I did was for the best… I mean, you hated that cat, didn't you?" Erin nodded to the sound of her son's voice. She could hear him clearly – the sound of his lungs drawing breath, the beat of his heart, the sound of his boots sticking to the ruddy ground. "Mother?"

She opened her eyes slowly, the vision of her inner beast fading into the shadows of her mind. Looking up at Avitus, she saw the beginning lines of concern beginning to form, and she reached up, patting his cheek softly. Steadily, a knot of stress began to form in the pit of her stomach when she mounted up onto her horse. Mundus lingered in her mind, or rather the feel of his mind trying to penetrate hers. Most magic is warm to the mind, even against enemies it still feels… Familiar. Mundus' was nowhere near familiar, it was icy and had caused her to be overcautious – something she should had never been around a mage like him.

"Mother, are you even listening to me?" Avitus' voice broke her thoughts again. By the Nine, she was never this inconsiderate! She glanced over at her son, finding him to be glaring at her. She shook her head and he rode up alongside her. "What in the world has gotten into you? You never come back from battles like this."

Erin hummed quietly, "I…" Could she tell him? Could she honestly tell her son that someone had caused her such stress? If she did, he would worry and then Ulfric or Galmar would become curious. If she didn't, Avitus would continue to prod her until she cracked. She smiled tightly, "It's nothing, Avitus. This battle touched a few nerves."

He frowned, "Are you positive?" She shot him a scolding look and he shrunk back, averting his amber eyes to the pommel of his horse's saddle. "I mean, you had a rather distant look in your eye."

"This battle seemed to have a terrible after effect. Typically, most battles have a few injured that are left amongst the dead, but not this time. They all were killed." Deep, deep within her soul, she trembled at the mental picture of the dead. "Perhaps this is getting out of hand, Avitus." He looked up instantly, cocking his head slightly to the side. "This civil war is starting seem ridiculous to me. Ulfric and Tullius think that winning this war is through bloodshed alone – which it isn't."

"You supported him at first. What made you change your mind?"

"I have thought it over these past few times I have had to collect the pendants of the dead. I am starting to see the wrong in this war." Then her mind remembered the spike of power in Helgen that Mundus mentioned. She gripped the reins of her horse tighter to the point where she thought that the skin would break. "Think of this for a moment – Ulfric was about to gain control of Falkreath when he was captured by Tullius. Before the headsman took his life, a strange magic spike appeared. I don't think that the spike was by pure coincidence."

"Maybe it was, and maybe it wasn't. Magic spikes have been happening in the College for months now."

Erin sighed, pinching the bridge between her eyes. "That is exactly what I'm speaking about. Magic spikes have been steadily rising, and something –or someone, for that matter – might be causing them." Avitus stared at her, dumbfounded. "I know it sounds foolish, but there hasn't been a magic spike this high since the Oblivion Crisis."

"When Martin Septim gave his life, yes I know. But that was when Magister Pycelle served the royal family in Cyrodiil. Are you saying only strange occurrences in the timeline of life make magic fluctuate?"

And then the thought crashed into her like a wild beast. If the Oblivion Crisis caused a strange rise in magic, who was to say that it wasn't happening now? But there had to be more than one occurrence, it didn't seem right to her. When she returned home, she would have to borrow some of Wuunferth's books of the history of Tamriel.

"What does Drevis think about these fluctuations?"

Erin couldn't see her son's face as he rode beside her – the only thing she saw was his dark hair slipping steadily from the ponytail that kept it back. Much of it fell down and touched the light blue jewel that held his cloak around him. She spread out a mental web of magic, letting it feel for any strange emotions that Avitus let slip by. Like bits of spider silk in the wind, Erin caught his concern and tried to soothe it. However, as her mind examined the stringy bits of concern ebbing from him, she noticed that it was not focused on her, but rather the distance.

She shifted her magical presence, allowing it to search the world around them. In response to the sudden shift, the horses' ears began to flick back and their muscles became taut with anxiety. A strange spike of power came from the road that encircled the Throat of the World.

Why there out of all places?

Her mind retracted its presence back, and the horses relaxed a great deal. Avitus' eyes blinked rapidly as thought clearing away a haze, and then he looked at her. Deep in her heart, a flicker of curiosity grew – a sense of dread and curiosity that made her beast hiss.

"Strange…." Avitus murmured, rolling his shoulders back. He drew his gaze away from her to look at the road. "Drevis has been getting terrible headaches from the power spikes, and Mirabelle has been looking sickly, as of late. In fact, most of the College professors are becoming affected by these spikes. It is one of the reasons why Master Ervine sent me back to Windhelm. She thinks you might be able to come up with something."

Erin made a noise in between a scoff and a laugh, "She knows me well enough to know that I am terrible at multitasking." She stopped herself – Mirabelle was one of her oldest and dearest friends, they had gone to the College together. She couldn't deny her friend a single favor, could she? "And I forget that I am the Sorceress of Windhelm… I cannot deny Mirabelle."

"She thought you'd said that." Erin automatically frowned and Avitus chuckled. "She knows that you cannot deny her or Ulfric."

"No, I can deny the latter."

"But you won't because you have known him too long."

"Not exactly, Avitus. I know how to say no, and lasting friendships do not grant anyone any amount of grace."

"You know, I forget – how long have you known Master Ervine and Jarl Ulfric?"

Her face smoothed out, and she tapped an amulet around her neck – an engraved gold necklace depicting the roaring bear of Eastmarch and the eye of the College on the back.

"I have known Ulfric since we were ten and Mirabelle since we were about seventeen, if that gives you any ideas." Avitus nodded, remembering. "You know, I often wonder where your mind gets to. You have a nasty habit of forgetting things."

A nervous smile broke out on his face and he began to toss the reins of his horse around in his hands. Using a bit of magic, she scolded him by using a push of air against the back of his head. He was thrown forward, and he swept his hair out of his face, sputtering.

"All right, all right – I get it, I'm a bit of a forgetful person," He admitted flipping back his hood to tie back his hair. She had remembered when she found him as a baby – a tiny, fragile thing left to die in front of Yngol's Barrow. If his skin would have been lighter and not as tall, he could have passed on as one of her blood because of the coal black hair and amber eyes of her father's line. "Mother, you're staring…"

She smiled at him, turning her gaze back to the road and then up to the sky. "Can a mother not admire her son?"

"I don't mind it if we're alone, but if Galmar hears you say that – I'll get called a spineless rabbit again." He physically shivered. "I don't even look like a rabbit."

"Galmar only does it to test you, my son."

"Well, his _testing_ has been taking an awfully long time because ever since I can remember I've been 'rabbit', not Avitus. At least Ulfric calls me by my name."

"It's because Ulfric trusts you…." Avitus blinked like a deer staring at a hunter. She chuckled, nudging her horse along the steep hill that led up to the gates nearest Helgen. "Well, as best a Nord can trust an Imperial, really."

"That makes me feel so much better." His voice dropped a moment and he clasped a hand over his throat. Ah, this age, she inwardly mused, it has its perks. He rode up alongside her once more and then stopped when the gates of Helgen stood in their way. "Why in the world are you smiling like a wily fox?"

She shook her head, "Oh, nothing."

He leapt down, examining the lock that held the gates shut. He tapped the gates and then swung as though they were loose, yet still they were held by that lock. "Well, I don't know what little thoughts are going through that mind of your, but stop – it's causing me to be on alert."

"No, the solution to your alertness is from what lies within these gates, little one. And I have the right to smile when your voice cracks like that."

"It is not as funny as you think it is, Mother."

"Hmm, perhaps I could tell you the story of when Ulfric's voice did that…" He physically perked up at sound of that. She began to rub her shoulders, and shut her eyes, "But I am sure you wouldn't want to hear that seeing as you don't find it amusing."

"If it's other people, it's a different story." He tapped the door and groaned. "Come get this open before I break it."

She slid down from her horse and looked at the lock. It had been picked before, and then fixed again. She saw why Avitus became irritated by it – it had been ruined so many times that the key hole was blackened and skewed. Her son was a tad mad if he thought she could pick this or even use magic on it.

"It has been ravaged by bandits and thieves – we have to go around." She said at last, stepping back. Avitus groaned followed by the sound of his boots drifting into the grass.

She looked at Helgen – once a small town that typically held the executioner's block for Stormcloaks and thieves on behalf of the Imperials – is now nothing more than a ruin of ash, cinders, and death. Her blood began to stir at the thought of the sins committed here. But that was not all that stirred her blood, for her beast began to pace once more like it had around Mundus as though it sensed something foul. Like one releases a hound for the scent, she let her beast's spirit search every inch of Helgen for what bothered it. Allowing a Magister's beast to go free and search is highly dangerous, she remembered, if you let one go for too long – it may perish and so will you in a matter of seconds. She wouldn't allow her to out for only a few moments.

However, she didn't need to call the beast back. Instead, it rushed back into her and nearly knocked her over. She staggered back, gasping for air at the rush of scents, powers, auras, and possible threats. She soothed the beast, hushing it as it snarled in a desperate attempt at fighting off the wild look in its eyes. It did not cling to her inner self, but instead pushed her out, out into the real world. She coughed, her body convulsing and shaking.

If whatever sat inside of Helgen scared her beast, she would not try to enter.

"There is no way around," Avitus called behind her. Erin physically cringed, biting her cheek to stop herself from cursing. "We have to get that door open."

"Avitus, perhaps we could use the pass that goes toward Ivarstead," She offered, hiding her pale knuckles in the sleeves of her robes. Avitus stopped beside her, staring at her with narrowed eyes.

"What happened?" He asked flatly. Erin let out a long breath, and felt her knuckles begin to cry out in pain at the sheer force she was applying to them in her anxiety. If she went through this place, there was the chance of sending her beast into a wild frenzy that would possibly harm Avitus. "Look, we can't stay here – Ulfric needs us back as soon as possible."

"And I don't care," Erin snapped. Avitus flinched at the sudden burst of magic that her soul let slip. In response, the heavens thundered to her anger. She calmed herself back down when she saw her son's shocked expression. Calmly, she said, "This… Place has _her_ frightened. I have no idea what she would do if we went in."

"I see…"

Avitus turned on his heel, starting up a ridge that encircled Helgen. Wuunferth used to say that youth were always reckless, and loved teasing life and death like a kitten with yarn. And this logic was proved true with Avitus; he enjoyed being curious. She watched him on the ridge as he stood on an outcropping of rock to observe what was within.

"There is nothing in there unless you count corpses and ashes," Avitus' voice echoed off of the walls and made her cringe. She narrowed her gaze at him, watching him closely as he leapt down from the ledges like a graceful saber cat. He landed in a heavy thump and then came running up to her side. "I don't know why she is touchy – there is nothing in there."

Mutely, she raised her hand and smacked him upside his head. "Get the door open," She ordered, turning back to the horses. They both looked at her with their big brown eyes full of intrigue. Horses were such adorable creatures to her – they were intelligent and sweet animals – unlike saber cats or snow bears that were cruel hunters. One horse snorted, nudging her side gently. They, no doubt, sensed her beast. She stroked the one she had ridden, but behind her, Avitus cursed.

"Trouble?" Erin inquired as she moved back to her son's side. Avitus was kneeling before the door with small tendrils of turquoise light flickering off of each fingertip that moved inside of the lock, trying to pry it open. "Alteration magic might open it easier."

"That is what I'm trying," Avitus said in concentration. "But… It's a tad tricky. I'm not a part of the Thieves Guild."

"You might try mixing Ironflesh with Telekinesis to pull the tumbler down, and thus unlock it," She watched his fingers pulse once more and then the lock let out a satisfying click before dropping to the ground.

When Avitus pushed the gates open, the horses whinnied frantically and Erin inwardly shivered. She took her horse by the reins and started into Helgen, trying to ignore the icy shocks of trouble that raced up her spine. This town possessed an aura of disturbance, for her mind was constantly being pricked by icy fingers despite the mental walls she had thrown up around it. She kept her fears locked within the confines of her mind as to not alert Avitus to them.

"Avitus, stay close to me," She said under her breath. But no reply came from behind her. Her voice cracked a bit when she called out for him. "Avitus!"

A wild, protective spark kindled in her heart when her eyes and magic misplaced him. How could she be so foolish! She admitted that her wits weren't about her, but they should not have misplaced her own son, for Gods' sake. She let her mind search Helgen, spreading across the small town until the wisps found him near the southern gate near a tower.

Erin found him staring up at the tower with a scowl on his face and his magic searching the fallen stone structure. The tower was strong, but seemed to be toppled over rather easily. She took stock of the tower – charred stone, burnt limbs thrown against the tower walls, ash piled up in the mortar, and wide, white claw marks. Her mind's eyes stopped over the claw marks. They were far too wide to be anything in Skyrim, or even High Rock for that matter. There were in sets of two and parallel to the other on each side. What could have possibly made those scratches?

"Those claw marks are strange," Avitus said in a low tone, turning away from the tower. "Not to mention the strange placement of burnt limbs…"

"Did I not tell you that coming in here was a terrible idea?" Erin said, mounting up onto her horse. "I knew that magical power spike meant something, but I had no idea it was on this magnitude."

"Wait, you knew?" Avitus asked, as though he hadn't heard her. "You knew about this?" He gestured to the tower. "Why did you never-,"

"I didn't know it was this terrible, Avitus." Her voice began to take on a sharp edge as she spoke causing Avitus to back up into his horse. "I don't even know what this is or what caused it. Believe me, if I knew – I would have told you." Once again, she sated her anger back down. Erin put a hand up as her anger was pulled back into her soul further and further until she no longer felt its dreadful sting. "I apologize for snapping. I… I had a bit of trouble this morning."

"With the amulets and dead?"

She nodded slowly, regretting lying to her son. She had lied to people before and never felt terrible, but this was her only child.

In an instant, a knot twisted her stomach at the sudden rush of guilt. "Yes, what happened with the armies this morning." With the statement, Avitus smiled brightly as he mounted up onto his horse.

"We should move on otherwise the jarl will suspect something."

He wheeled around, starting out of Helgen while Erin slowly started after him. Many things rushed through her mind at that moment; Mundus, the civil war, the strange spikes of power, and home. She believed if she made it back to Windhelm everything would be fine. Yes, everything would be fine.

Looking up at Avitus, she smiled sadly, _"I'm so sorry, my son."_

* * *

_Thank you all for reviewing last chapter, it means alot to me to hear from you all. _

_Anyway, don't forget to favorite, follow, and review. _

_Until Next Time _

_-Princess_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

"_I have a bad feeling about doing this, Phinis," Mirabelle said uneasily, staring down into a large, stone pit. Large, circular pillars were toppled over, and crumbling from age around the great pit. If one looked closer, they saw rusted daggers and spatter of coppery red scattered about the old ruin. _

_Erin sat on the edge of the pit, observing the iron doors closely. They were crunched on the sides as though something had hefted them off of their hinges, yet still they hung. A middle-aged Breton mage started down the steps, quietly muttering to himself as he reached the door. Approaching the door, the Breton's hands lit up with a deep brown and he swiped the air. In a deafening crack and whine of metal, the doors where cast aside. _

"_You're just being overcautious, Mira," A boy laughed. Erin knew that boy, he was a classmate of hers in her earlier years. He had a hawk-like face and hair that was on the verge of turning black. "Professor, there isn't anything bad in there, right?" _

"_No, but we are going to be practicing our Conjuration today on the Draugr that live in this ruin, Ben," Phinis replied smoothly. A smirk flashed on his face when he disappeared into the ruin. "Come along, wouldn't want the three of you to get lost now." _

_Erin leapt down from the edge with Mirabelle after her. Looking at the two of them, one could see that the girls were of the same age but one was a tad taller than the other. Mirabelle – even in her younger years - had short hair to keep it out of her eyes. Erin looked at her younger self – she wore her hair in a braid that rested on her shoulder with the adept robes' clip becoming hidden. _

_Ever so slowly, the dream rippled like water, twisting and mixing all of the white and grey together before turning into grey and soft gold. Phinis stood with both her and Mirabelle on either side of him, while their male classmate held a small flame atronach in his palm, letting it dance in graceful circles for him. _

"_Now, return it back to Oblivion, Benedict," Phinis instructed. Benedict nodded, and hovered his hand above the atronach's flaming crown before letting an oval of purple and black envelope it. It hissed and went up in smoke, "Most excellent, all three of you." _

"_Uh, Professor…?" Mirabelle asked in a low voice, gesturing to their classmate as he began breathing heavily. "Is that supposed to happen?" _

_Benedict let out a yelp as a portal of Oblivion erupted in front of the group, scattering them around the large room. A piercing, gurgling cry was heard followed by Benedict's shouts of disapproval until all became deadly silent. _

"_Oh gods, no!" Phinis shouted as the portal snapped shut. _

~.~.~

Erin shot up, almost hitting her head on her tree branch above her head. She hadn't been sleeping, and was beginning to feel it pine for rest. She hadn't slept on the four days they had been on the road back to Windhelm, and ever since then she had been disturbed by dreams or her beast. She rubbed her forehead with a gloved hand, feeling her skin shiver when the gloves' leather hit it. She was starting to hate this lack of sleep, for her body could only take so much pressure before it collapsed.

She heard Avitus call out to a Stormcloak when the ground began to change from dirt to thick snow. A small smile crept across Erin's face – she had been missing home for weeks. They stopped at the stables and delivered their horses to the groom before starting off into Windhelm.

Great, lustrous steel gates were cracked ever so slightly to allow them inside. The streets were somber, as was typical of this great city – Nords kept to one side while the Dark Elves stayed to the other. The Candlehearth Hall was lit with gold light, giving off a warm welcome for those who stepped through Windhelm's gates.

"Gods damned Grey-Skins. Who do they think they are, huh? They come in here and lounge around all damn day like a bunch of leeches," A voice slurred.

Erin inwardly sighed in defeat for that speech was a common one around streets and it belonged to none other than Galmar's brother, Rolff. Her blood stirred at the sound of him being vulgar and rash with the Dark Elves. At first, she had nearly ripped Rolff's head from his shoulders with an icy spear when he commented about the Dunmer that lived in the city. Sadly, Ulfric had held her back, but that was when they were young and he still a Jarl's son.

Rolff turned to her, a crooked smile coming to his lips when she locked eyes with him. "Oh would you look it that – it's the witch." Rolff hissed. "Come back to infect us again?"

"Rolff, I have lived here all of my life. I would no more infect this city than fly," Erin said, correcting him. He scowled, shooting a dark glare at her. "Oh come now, you aren't going to pout now, are you? That is rather unbecoming of you, especially for a Stone-fist."

"Quit, badgering me, woman," Rolff's ears began to turn a light red and Erin smirked. Oh yes, she had hit a sensitive nerve. "You support those bloody leeches, don't you?"

"All races are equal in my eyes, Rolff. Now, if you don't mind I have to speak with your brother and the jarl."

Her voice remained calm, almost too calm for her liking. Rolff – in her eyes- was nothing more than a shadow of his brother, for he practically lived in the great, long shadow Galmar had created. In secret, Erin had dubbed Rolff the Village Idiot when he did things like this, he would puff himself up to make himself more intimidating, yet it did nothing other than make his anger for pronounced. Avitus stepped around him with her following.

Behind her, Rolff clenched his fists to the point where Erin could almost hear the screams of his muscles and joints to stop. If Rolff wanted to challenge her, he would have to try very hard to trick her, much less create a scene. Erin had seen him strike a woman before – a Dunmer – who had called him an idiot and brainless. It happened faster than lightning striking the ground when he had struck her, cracking her jaw.

"Gods, I hate him," Avitus hissed under his breath.

Erin agreed with him, but knew that it would be wrong to say anything aloud. It seemed as though the world was falling, falling into deep, chaotic pit without a ladder or rope to pull them back up. If things continued, the world would crumble into pieces and then into dust.

The two watched from a safe distance, the changing of the guards throughout the city. Three stood in the entrance to the Palace of Kings while others spread out. She mentally counted each guard, finding that Ulfric had doubled the guards in the past few weeks. And had she not been paying attention, she would not have noticed a young girl dressed in the light blue armor of the Stormcloaks coming dashing by with a dog at her heels. Erin watched the dog, sensing a troubling aura from it. She shared a cryptic look with Avitus before starting into the palace.

"Mother, what are we going to do with all the rest of the amulets if there aren't shrines for them here in Windhelm?" Avitus whispered in her ear. She glanced up at him and then to the pouch on her hip that held the amulets.

"I'll figure it out. Now go see Wuunferth, I have a small guess that he needs your assistance," She told him, patting his hand. He dipped his head to her then ran up the higher levels of the palace. To herself, she murmured, "Please let him understand."

As she drew near the war room, she could hear a woman's voice mingled with the lower timbres of Ulfric and Galmar as they began contemplating something. Leaning against the doorframe she listened, but felt as though something was staring at her.

"Galmar, the crown is a myth, "Ulfric said, already sounding flustered with his housecarl.

"The Jagged Crown is no myth, I have heard rumors about it," Galmar corrected. She could almost hear Ulfric's brow furrowing and eyes narrowing. "I know what you're thinking… I did not hear from some old crone. I have been tracing it all throughout Skyrim with some… Assistance from several Court Wizards."

"If it does exist – which it may or may not – how would we know exactly know where it might be and how do we beat Tullius to it?"

"I haven't gotten that far yet. If it's in a tomb then we may have the upper hand, if not then we keep searching until we do find it."

"Actually, I think I have heard of the Jagged Crown," Came the woman's voice – soft and mouse-like. "It might be somewhere nearby – why would our kinsmen hide it very far from the true city of kings?"

"The Unblooded has a point," Galmar continued. Erin heard the thump of his battle ax rap the ground. "The kings of old were known for keeping their treasure close, but not too close."

"Fine – Galmar, you and the Unblooded work on finding the crown, _together_. I have other things I need to attend to," Ulfric ordered. She saw the flash of his dark coat and a smirk played on her lips. He could be quite the stick in the mud if he wanted to, she thought. He exited the war room with the beginning stages of scowl creasing his face.

"Seems you're rather busy," Erin jested, her smirk turning into a grin. Ulfric froze, and then turned to look at her. Oh so very easily, he towered over her, as was common amongst the Nords. He was broad shouldered, with wolf fur donning the shoulders of his dark coat and offsetting his blonde hair. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she smiled, "I assume you have missed me."

"Quite, old friend," He chuckled. One of his hands clasped her shoulder, giving her a small shake. "I'm surprised that you weren't back sooner."

"Had a bit of a detour, nothing more," She replied smoothly, trying to ignore the sickening guilt in her body. She unclasped the pouch and pressed into Ulfric's hand. He frowned, almost hesitating for a brief moment. "Twenty five lost… no survivors on either side. Neugrad is fair game now."

"Damn," He grumbled, tightening his grip on the pouch. He turned away from her, looking to the banners that hung in the main hall. Gods, she hated giving him bad news. She raised a hand to his face and drew his gaze back to hers.

"Follow me," She said, starting off to a long corridor. She halted before her room door to find it cracked open slightly. Erin pushed open the door to find her cat, Siegfried sitting on her bed, preening his face with one white paw. She gave his head a gentle rub as the door clicked closed. "Ulfric, I have been thinking about something as of late."

"Is there ever a point where you are not thinking?" She smiled, snapping her fingers to light the fire in the hearth. A small, green spark flitted across the room and landed in the hearth, igniting into a burst of orange flame.

"I have been thinking that possibly this civil war isn't what we had envisioned for Skyrim." Instantly his eyes narrowed, yet he kept his tongue still. "By the time we ever gain any ground, thousands of kindred will have slain each other. I-I saw the horror in Falkreath, the blood, the death, the carrions and hounds. It's too much. I wish, with all my heart, for Skyrim to be free, but perhaps-,"

"Stop." It was her turn to glare at him as he cut her off. He shifted his weight to his heels, looking her in the eyes. "You supported me in this decision, Erin. Do not tell me you are going back now – after all we have done."

"We have made little head-way, Ulfric."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Surely not mine, I will tell you." As her anger lashed out, Siegfried hissed with the hairs on his scruff beginning to stand on end. Anger flashed in her jarl's eyes as she stared him directly in the eyes, never removing for a split second. She took a step closer to him, staring up at him darkly. "Do not try and place the blame on me. I stood beside you because you are not only my friend, _but_ my jarl and the only man I bend my knee to. If anyone is to blame, it's you or even your generals – alone they have done nothing to even breech Tullius' defenses."

"Erin, you could also help me, you know."

"And I have told you – I will not use my magic for mundane tasks."

"This is hardly mundane."

"Gods damn, you're stubborn. Listen to me!" She grabbed the other pouch that held the other emblems from the soldiers. "There were fifty men on the battle field, and every one of them died either praising your name or cursing it."

"I have held men and women that had been struck down by blades. I held them as they whispered the names of their loved ones and took their last breath. I will not allow so many of my men to fall, but if Tullius pushes me then I shall push back. Skyrim belongs to the people who made her who she is – not some plaything for the Thalmor!"

Erin shrunk back, stopping herself from letting her anger rise. All ready, the fire in the hearth was hissing, spitting, and rising higher and higher in its stony cage. Looking up at Ulfric, she suddenly felt tiny as his face became shadowed by the fire and his blue-green eyes catching the glint of the flames to make it appear like river stones being caressed by amber fingers.

"In the end, who will win – us or the Thalmor?" She whispered, falling back into a chair. She ran a hand through her hair, watching it slip through her fingers.

"Now, are you with me or against me, Erin?" Ulfric asked after a few more moments of silence.

She hung her head – her head being cradled in her hands. "I've always been with you, you know. If it were asked of me, I would follow you into Coldharbour and back."

"Good – now, I have someone I would like for you to meet in the war room." He stood and left her room with her followed after, trying to match his long strides. Why was she cursed with being so short? Bretons were naturally short and petite people, and thus were unable to keep up with Nords and Khajiit. "This seems oddly familiar."

She cocked an eyebrow when he stopped in the archway of the corridor. He looked down at her, and she scowled. She knew what he was thinking of – he was thinking of when they were younger and she would complain about him walking too fast. She motioned with her hands for him to move along, which he took and continued back to the war room.

When they entered, Erin saw a young woman – maybe five years older than Avitus – standing beside Galmar with quill and paper in hand. She was a Nord, tall and slender, with light blonde hair that was sloppily braided on either side of her head.

"Unblooded," Ulfric started, causing the woman to glance up from her paper. She shoved the materials into Galmar's hands, who grunted in frustration when she scampered away from him to stand before Ulfric. "Erin, this is our newest recruit, Thora. Thora, this is Erin Ashing, Sorceress of Windhelm."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Thora," Erin said with a soft smile. Thora returned the smile and then bowed. "You need not bow to me… Why ever did you do that?"

"I am a Restoration mage, my lady. I have heard of you before, and thus it is a great honor to be before you," Thora answered, returning to Galmar, who unceremoniously handed her back her quill and paper. "I came here to help with the rebellion."

"Strange, you must be freelance then?"

"I am," Erin nodded, tapping her fingers on her thigh in thought. Slowly, she cast out a web of magic to begin searching Thora's mind as she spoke with Galmar about the Jagged Crown. The voices drifted off when Erin sensed a brooding frustration near Thora, or rather around her. Her presence was somehow skewed, almost dark. It was strikingly familiar to the presence she had sensed after cleaning up in Fort Neugrad.

She was awakened from her sensing when Ulfric tapped her side with the back of his hand. Deep within her, her beast snarled with lips pulled back into a wicked grin. Erin didn't know who she was inferring her anger to. Within, she was still flustered with Ulfric, but managed to bank the fires of rage back down into the deepest part of her soul. And then she felt it, she felt an unfamiliar magic touching her mind. The magic was small, only a whisper, that knocked against her mind's walls. In fact, she felt three other presences: Wuunferth's strong, mysterious presence, Avitus' fleeting presence, and then this strange, almost ghostly presence. Sorcery and magic could not touch her with her mind's walls as strong as they were currently. Thus, she took the chance to touch the fragile magic that flitted around.

However, her magical presence was far stronger than she remembered.

Thora's throat constricted and she began gasping for air. The woman's hands began gripping the edges of the wooden table, trying to stabilize herself before she collapsed. She tumbled down the floor and Erin retracted her mind from Thora's hearing the young woman take a gulp of air. Galmar cocked an eyebrow at her and then looked at Thora.

"What did you do?" Galmar growled, watching Thora pick herself up. Erin kept her features neutral when Thora scowled in her direction. "Erin…."

"Be careful what you go doing with that freedom," Erin stated coolly. Thora sat back on her heels, leaning up against a window. She turned on her heel, exiting the war room to return to her own. She closed her mind out to Avitus and Wuunferth, trying to find a solution to the trouble in her heart.

_My assailant would love for your cooperation upon a matter that requires… Delicate handiwork_.

Who was Mundus' assailant? The question had not left her ever since he said it to her that day. Mages rarely bound themselves to an assailant unless they were a court wizard or a Battlemage. However, Mundus was freelance meaning he bound himself to no man or woman. She tapped her fingers on her wood headboard. She cast the question out of her mind, still feeling the hot coil of anger in her stomach. Sometimes, she found Ulfric a bother – the Nord stubbornness was far too strong in him.

Erin sat on her bed, unclipping her cloak from her shoulders. Her skin was pricked by the chill that seeped through stone walls, despite the fact that a fire was burning. Her cat was curled up on the hearth, with his fluffy tail curled around his nose. Passing him, she changed into a simple dress and then wrapped a shawl around her shoulders as she sat on the edge of her bed. Siegfried leapt down from his perch on the hearth to rub his head on her side in greeting. His head bumped her back and she hissed in surprise, backing up with one hand pressed against her back.

Siegfried's green eyes widened in shock with a soft mew. She held a hand out for him, which he happily rubbed against while she rubbed out the pain in her back. Through the heavy material, she could feel a risen scar. The payment for being a Magister. She shut her eyes, biting her lip as the pain spread across her side. Sensing her pain, Siegfried began to purr and her inner beast did the same, or rather it rumbled in happiness to her cat's friendliness.

"Thank you, sweet one," She whispered, giving her cat's long ears a gentle stroke. "Hopefully, we can sort this out…"

* * *

_I hate having a semi road block in my brain. This chapter almost didn't get to my beta on time because I was being a lazy writer. I, uh, also got sucked into playing Skyrim for a stupid amount of time. Oops. _

_Anyway, Fave,follow, and review please! Also, don't be afraid to share this with your friends. :) _

_Until next time! _


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

* * *

"Perhaps I am not looking at this correctly," Erin murmured to herself, shutting a violet bound book. Siegfried jolted in surprise at her sudden movement, and stared at her with wide green eyes as she placed the book onto a pile. She had searched every single book Wuunferth had, yet it yielded nothing. There was nothing on strange magical spikes in any other time other than the Oblivion Crisis and the time of the Nerevarine.

She cradled her head in one hand, "I don't know any more, Siegfried." The raven feline rubbed his head against her open palm, skewing his fluffy cheek fur. Her eyes watched him – his stocky body and fluffy fur made him appear far bigger than most felines – as he purred and preened her hand.

At that moment when she shut her eyes, she saw her beast, imprinted on the backs of her eyelids. Its jade eyes stared at her each time she blinked with an almost predatory gaze. Fear chilled her blood and she tried to avoid the gaze of the beast. She felt it growl, her own body trembling at the beast's sheer force. She had forgotten how powerful her beast truly was. Siegfried stared at her with eyes thinning ever so slightly and she sighed, catching his suspicious glance. She relaxed to allow herself into the depths of her inner mind.

There the beast sat, shrouded in shadows to only allow its deep, jaded eyes to stare at her. The world around her was silent and dark – much like her beast. It blinked slowly, its pupils readjusting to look at her to the point where the darkness about swallowed those beautiful eyes. Erin shivered when the beast grumbled – though a happy grumble – in her direction.

"What is it you want of me?" Erin asked. The beast blinked again as though expecting her to figure out what each blink meant. Who did her beast think she was? Surely her beast knew her well enough to understand that being mute solved no issues. Erin frowned, placing a hand on her hip. "I find it unbecoming of you to sit there and play mute…"

The beast's eyes moved up; a sign that it was moving. It stood above her, taking in air and exhaling over her. Was it interested in something she had said? Erin narrowed her eyes at the beast.

"I am a Magister, not a guesser. Now explain to me why you dragged me in here," She informed in a calmer tone. The beast blinked and tilted its head slightly. "Here; let me try that again. I wish to why you showed yourself to me."

The beast let out a rumble that shook her bones. It gilded past her, still covered in shadow yet Erin could feel the air and magic shift as her beast passed her. The beast let out a click to draw her attention to a light – a swirling pool of blue and white in the centre of her mind. The light from the pool flickered in her beast's features – a mane of black and grey fur and large oval paws with a flicking tail resting a top the paws. She squatted down at the pool's edge, looking at the image displayed before her.

The room was large and oval shaped with white grey-veined marble climbing high. To her, the room appeared old by the dirty skid marks on the floor. The beast rumbled once again and the image hovered over a marble wall that was beautifully engraved. The work was nothing like Erin had seen before; it could not even match the likeness of the work done in Nordic tombs. The patterns dipped and swirled like ribbons caught in the breeze before rippling away in the pool.

"Why would you show me this?" Erin asked after a moment's thought. She looked up into the eyes of her beast. However emotional her beast was during points in her life - around her it became mute and stoic. Then her beast tore its gaze from hers and let out a purr. "Someone comes?"

The beast nodded and blinked slowly in response.

Erin was thrust out of her own mind back into reality. Her stomach almost turned, causing her to clamp a hand over her mouth to stop it from truly turning. Her body felt as though it was thrust into a fire. Her hand released her mouth when a knock came at her door. Siegfried padded over to the door and sat before it, looking between it and her.

"Who is it?" Erin asked, scooping up her cat before the door knocked him away.

"Avitus," Came the automatic reply. Erin inwardly released a breath, thanking the Divines it was her son. She opened the door with a flailing Siegfried in her arms. Avitus chuckled and Erin finally gave in to her cat's unyielding love for him. "Hello there, little warrior," He touched noses with the cat. "You aren't bothering Mother, are you?"

"No more than usual," She answered flatly as she sat back in her chair, feeling her body become heavier than lead at that moment. Avitus shut the door and dropped Siegfried on her bed to wrap his arms around her shoulders. He rested his head on hers and she patted his hands. "I feel as though Julianos has cursed me – I cannot seem to find anything on the magical spikes."

Avitus reached forward, taking a book to look at its contents. "Not even a mentioning of anything?" He asked thoughtfully. Erin shook her head, her hair coming to fly in her face. She began to braid pieces of it back to keep it out of her eyes. "Could you possibly not be looking in the right area?" She shot him a glare while she worked on the braids. "Mother, you have been looking at history that has valid reasoning to have these spikes. Why not look at normal history?"

"That would take me hours to do – a small item I lack at this moment." She tied the tails of the braids together and she stood, straightening the wrinkles in her trousers. Avitus cocked an eyebrow at her and she sighed. She had fallen into the habit of wearing trousers and overcoats again – a habit she had picked up from her time in High Rock. "You couldn't speak to Urag about retrieving books on Nordic history, would you?"

"I could, but I would have to speak with Master Ervine first," Avitus handed her the book back. She placed it back on the messy pile on her desk. Avitus sunk down onto her bed, running his hands through his dark hair.

"What bothers you?" She asked as she stacked the book neatly. She opened one book that had her quill in it finding that it had dripped ink all over the pages. She conjured a flickering light onto her fingertips and began lifting the ink from the page. From the page came a small blob of coal black ink that she observed closely. "Avitus, being quiet won't solve your problem."

"You sound like Ulfric…"

She glanced over her shoulder, mentally checking her tone. Had she done that? Her fingers began to shake as her magic slipped out of her grip. She luckily caught the ink in her other hand while the other shook. The price of using Magister magic was that it took energy – energy that was otherwise used for keeping one's self alive or, in her instance, her hand's strength. As of late, Erin found herself forgetting important things like the price of her magic or her temper. All of it stemmed from stretching herself too thin – in simplicity, she felt like a rope being pulled until the twine starts to uncoil.

"I apologize then," Erin corrected in a hurt voice. She looked over her shoulder at Avitus, who was looking up at her with pained eyes. "I do not realize when I start to lose myself. To be honest, I have not been entirely sure of myself." His gaze thinned and she dropped the ink into the well at the head of her desk. "I have not only been scrying for the Jagged Crown, but have been training Thora. Tie that in with these strange magical spikes, then you gain what I have been having to deal with."

"I could help you, Mother…" Her heart twisted at the rueful tone he had at that moment. She approached and sat beside him, taking one of his hands.

"I couldn't do that to you. You are young – something that only ever comes once."

"But you are driving yourself mad." She didn't dare look up at him, but she could almost see his face in her mind. His sharp features would be twisted into hurt and his amber eyes would be fixated upon her. "Let me help you, _please…"_

She looked up, finding the very same look she had imagined before her. She released his hand to take his face. Her thumbs traced his cheekbones gently, and his eyes snapped shut. "Little one, I will be fine," She assured him. "I have dealt with worse."

"You shouldn't have to push yourself so hard, Mother," His voice dropped to below a whisper and she smiled. Her son always had worried for her ever since he could talk. She hushed him when he tried to speak again. Releasing his face, she stood to gather an overcoat from her wardrobe. She finally found a green and gold one in the very back. "Mother-," Avitus said, drawing her attention as she slid on the heavy coat. "We still haven't found anything on the Jagged Crown, by the way."

"Is _that_ why they sent you in here?" Erin teased. Avitus' lips tugged down slightly and she chuckled as she drew her hair out from beneath the coat's collar. "It doesn't surprise me honestly. The only ones who can scry are Wuunferth and I."

"I can as well…"

"I know you can, but you cannot see very far."

He stood, huffing and rolling his shoulders back uneasily. He reminded her of an angry raven for a moment, the way they puff their chests out when flustered was the epitome of her son at that moment. She played with the long sleeves of the coat, trying to fix them to where they stopped hiding her hands. Another knock at her door made Siegfried dart up to the door and stare expectantly.

"Who is it?" Erin asked as she fixed her braids.

"It's me, Thora," Came the reply through the door. Erin nodded to Avitus, who opened the door, ignoring Siegfried. Thora yelped when Siegfried shot out from behind Avitus' feet to run down the hall in the direction of the kitchens. "Is he always that…? Excited?"

"He is a mouser. It is one of the few reasons Ulfric keeps him around," Erin answered, appearing in Thora's view. The young woman smiled brightly and then tugged at the sleeve of her blue robes. The blue of the robes matched the blue of the banners of Eastmarch, but Erin found that it matched Thora's eyes as well. "Have you found anything since Avitus left you this morning?"

Thora smiled nervously, "N-No, I couldn't seem to find anything with Galmar either."

"Why does that surprise me?" Erin muttered as they walked down the corridor. She found the other two having to fast walk to keep up with her as she walked out into the main hall. She raised her voice back for the others to hear. "Thora, you mentioned your kinsmen possibly hiding in a place nearby?"

"Yes, but I have searched every place that seems logical in Eastmarch," Thora replied. Erin stopped at that moment, catching a few words in Thora's sentence. She raised an eyebrow up at Thora, who remained oblivious to the words she had said. Young mages could never scry very far in their early years, in fact, many adult mages could never scry very far unless they were Illusion masters. "Did I say something?"

"You said only in Eastmarch. You didn't happen to check the Pale or the Rift?" Erin said.

"Why the Pale? There isn't a lot of anything up there," Avitus said. She caught the accusing tone to his voice and she flicked her eyes at him, yet kept her gaze on Thora. The girl lowered her head, averting her gaze.

"Thora, it's fine for young mages not to know how far to scry. It is not within your power," Erin explained, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. For a moment, confidence flashed in Thora's eyes and she smiled faintly. Releasing her, Erin turned around, "And Avitus, do not be smart with me, boy."

"Yes, Mother."

~.~.~

"You found nothing? Not even a trace of the Jagged Crown's whereabouts?" Galmar asked, anger touching his voice. Erin leaned on the table heavily, her body starting to feel the effects of using her Illusion magic. She stared up at Galmar unconvinced that he was truly angry with her despite the rasp of the emotion in his voice. "Every moment you cannot find it is another moment the Legion gains on their quest for it."

"Galmar, did it ever cross your mind that possibly the Legion doesn't believe in fairytales such as the Jagged Crown? All Tullius cares about is returning home to Cyrodiil. The sole reason he is here is because of the Emperor's order," Erin explained. "I know there are Nords in the Legion, but still – even they would not consider running around for a myth."

Galmar looked at her, dumbfounded. By the flash of questioning in his eyes, she knew that he was trying to put his words together carefully. She shifted her weight around, her bones beginning to scream out for relief when she made so much as a twitch. Mentally, she formed golden light onto her fingertips and pressed them against her hip to relieve some of the tension.

"Rikke… Rikke will more than likely use spies to find out. She would be the only one to convince Tullius to go after the Crown," Galmar said finally. Erin's eyes widened in slight shock. There was a name she hadn't heard in years – Rikke, or would it Legate Rikke now? "Tullius doesn't believe it fairytales like you said, but Rikke – she believes in them, that much I know."

"But you also said there were spies involved."

"Aye, Imperials like them a bit too much… They have them everywhere, and no doubt are using them as we speak."

"So, how do we keep the little spies out of our hair?"

"I don't know…" He frowned and Erin let out a scoff, shaking her head yet she smiled. "Oh don't shake your head! I have been thinking about this for a while actually," One of his hands stroked his beard in thought. "You'll have to figure something out to cover your tracks as well…"

"I have that covered all ready," Erin made a gesture towards Thora and Avitus, both of whom played a secret role in hiding her tracks from spies. Galmar looked back at the two mages, and gave her a puzzled look. "Every person has immediate suspicions of someone like myself or Wuunferth when we go snooping or scrying. But if someone like Thora does it with using little magic to see – then who can prove that we have been snooping?"

"I see… But I can't simply use others to cover my tracks, Erin."

"Oh you could," She smiled foxily, resting both hands on the war table. "It is just going to be a tad trickier for you, old bear."

Galmar shot her a dark glare that she chuckled at. He muttered something under his breath that even her heightened senses could not pick up. She had thoughts about asking him what he had said, but she shook her head.

Then the great doors of the Palace of Kings were thrown open. Galmar trudged out of the war room while Erin lingered behind in the doorway. A Stormcloak messenger came running up to Galmar and Ulfric, nearly out of breath.

"What happened?" Galmar asked as the messenger leaned on his knees, regaining his breath. From her place in the doorway, Erin could see a splatter of blood on the man's cuirass that piqued her attention. Her mind weaved wisps of magic together, soothing the man's wild terror. Galmar's voice rose, shattering her magic web instantly. "Speak, man!"

"The Rift encampment…" The man said airily. "It… It was like nothing I had ever seen! One moment we all were patrolling and the next!" Clear signs of confusion were on Galmar and Ulfric's faces as the man's hands shook. He had seen something, something frightening; and nothing she did seemed to calm him.

"You need to slow down and tell us what destroyed the camp," Erin interjected, stepping into the room. The messenger looked at her, the same look of terror in his eyes. Her beast inwardly cocked its head to the side and then stepped out of her realm to search the man. "Was it a man or a beast?"

"A-A man… I think," The messenger managed. Her beast picked up the scent of blood. "It could have easily been a beast – I'm not sure. It was too fast."

It was a human, the beast decided. Erin countered her beast's logic by saying that no man could move that fast and destroy an entire camp of Stormcloaks. She crossed her arms, catching Galmar's curious gaze. Her beast circled the messenger once more, and there Erin found a small wisp of magic. It was familiar, yet so different to her beast's senses.

"Did anything give this thing away? A noise or possibly an animal?" She asked. Her beast returned to her, reminding her of all the senses and presences that she had found. The messenger fidgeted nervously.

"There was a horse… A blonde horse sitting idly outside of the camp before we were taken over. It was sitting there and it was tacked, yet no rider was nearby. Some of us thought it was just a stray."

Erin hummed, and gave the man a nod. He bowed in turn to the jarl and housecarl before disappearing into barracks. She found herself focusing on the magic that the man on his person. It was similar – in power – to Ulfric's own power. The Voice had its own presence, and it was quite strong, like a crushing wave to someone like herself. Yet the messenger only had a tiny wisp of this power lingering on his being.

"What did you find?" Ulfric's voice drew her out of her thoughts. She wrapped a hand around her mouth with her fingers tapping her cheek. "It seems rather peculiar that he saw nothing of what slaughtered his brothers and sisters."

"I think I found traces of the Thu'um on his person," Erin replied in a low voice.

"On?" Thora echoed.

"Yes, on," Erin said hastily, her hand slipping off of her mouth. "But that shouldn't be where our focus is held. It needs to be on the Rift, seeing as it is now under Imperial control."

"We also need to take the Reach," Galmar stated gravely. "And find the Crown."

"We cannot be chasing fairytales at this rate, Galmar," Ulfric countered. For a brief moment, Erin felt an icy presence tap hers. She guarded herself by using strong mental walls. "The Rift sits at our border, and if the Imperials become brave enough they _will_ march on Fort Amol."

Before Galmar could snap back at Ulfric, Erin spoke. "Leave me in charge of the Rift. You two need to focus on finding the Jagged Crown seeing as it will gain you some claim when the Moot comes." Erin felt the presence tap hers once more and she froze, yet tried to maintain a sense of calm to not alert the others. "I'll leave in the morning to take back the hold we lost."

"Erin, I can send other people to take it back. You are needed here," The jarl said firmly.

"And if that person is lost, what will you do? I assure you that the Rift will be ours by the time I return." His bemused expression spoke to her, finding that he did not agree with that logic. She held his stony gaze for a moment, but stopped when that presence broke a mental wall. She strode off, out of the Palace of Kings and past the stables, following the presence that broke her mind's barriers.

Amidst the thick snow and ice stood Mundus, dark cloak pulled over his head and covering most of his body. Her beast snarled, but she soothed it. The wind did not disrupt the peaceful shadow like cloak over his body, making him appear like a long shadow.

"What are you doing here?" She demanded. "I thought after Falkreath you were going to leave me alone."

Mundus smiled, and his image wavered before he reappeared beside her with one long hand wrapping around her arm. "Now, now, dearest lady – I said I hoped on seeing you again, did I not?" He squeezed her arm and then released it. "And here you are…"

"Why are you here, Mundus?" Erin asked in a firm tone. Turning, she saw his grey eyes glowing through the darkness of his hood. "I wish to know why you appeared at such an inopportune time."

"I said it before and I will say it again, my lady. Perhaps your jarl is wrong, perhaps this rebellion is all for naught." He snapped his fingers and the wind ceased. "But that is not why I am here, you see. I am here to fix your problems." She watched him with intent eyes as he moved in front of her to sit on a rock. "A messenger came to you not too long ago claiming to have seen his comrades murdered by an otherworldly force. A week ago a magical power spiked near the Throat of the World, and now you are without a Hold. Strange, no?"

She eyed him, but moved to sit beside him. "It is indeed very strange… Do you have any ideas on what it might be?" His smile fell that instant and he twirled his hawk feathered braid around a long digit. Had he run out of ideas? Inside, all of sudden, she felt numb as though someone had stripped her of her beast's presence entirely. She let out a breath, and Mundus smirked.

"I know that it is not a what, but rather a who. A who that many thought was dead or even fake. It is dangerous, and was once thought of as a god. You have a piece of the puzzle in your grasp as we speak, my lady."

"And that piece would be?"

"A piece of the heavens, of course," He smiled at her and she stared back at him, bemused. Somehow she felt cold, and could not bring emotion back into her soul. She could only feel the cold of what felt like Mundus' mind searching hers, or it possibly was the cold of the outside. Her eyes watched Mundus' lean hands slip into the confines of his dark cloak and remove something. He held it out to her, and she looked at the object. It was a smooth, green disk. "A piece of the heavens…" He pressed it into her hand, and closed her fingers around it.

"Why are you doing this?"

The Breton man chuckled deviously. "So you can undermine the blackened nettles, and regain a Hold."

She scowled, her hands mutely tucking the object back into her cloak. "You want me to destroy one of the most powerful families in the entire Rift? Are you mad?"

Mundus chuckled, "Of course not then again, most mages are seen as mad – no?" He folded his hands behind his back, revealing a dark tome bound to his hip that peeked Erin's interest. Her eyes tried to search the tome while he articulated a plan to her. A dark, terrible presence hissed off of the tome. "You aren't listening, are you?"

Erin shook her head, "I apologize – I have been rather distracted as of late."

"Well, it is common for Sorcerers to lose sight of themselves." Her blood froze in her veins at the sly tint in his voice. "But please, my lady, do pay attention. I wandered all this way to help you and you stare off into the distance – it is rather unbecoming…"

Erin then folded her hands together, mimicking his posture. "Then enlighten me to how you wish to destroy the Black-Briars."

"Maven has a son – Sibbi, was it?" He nodded in agreement with himself. "Sibbi has done a rather nasty deed, and Maven has yet to fetch the boy out of prison. The people of Riften are unaware of Maven's little slip. You find out why Sibbi is in jail, fetch him, and then have the Thieves Guild spread in all across Skyrim that the new jarl has a fugitive for a son."

Erin bit back a thoughtful hum. It seemed that Mundus knew more than she assumed. She shifted her weight around, trying to piece together his strange presence or rather his countenance. It was like looking at pale marble, carved to appear like a face with wintry grey eyes that flickered with Breton magic.

"And without a Jarl to command the cities within, Laila will have to step in and the city will be ours," She agreed with a forced smile. Mundus returned the smile, though his still reflected that of a grinning cat or fox. "How in the world do you find such things?"

He waved a hand with bits of ice magic slipping off of his fingers to allow the snow to continue its fall. "I have eyes everywhere, my lady. Just like you."

"Is that so?"

Mundus swept past her, the feeling of numbness beginning to drain away from her soul like one melts ice. "Yes, yes I do. Eyes and ears everywhere, and if you ever need my aid once again – do not hesitate to call for me."

"I suppose you think you're very witty, don't you?" She turned and found that he had left her like a passing wind. She frowned, shaking her head. He was a crafty little fox, that one.

* * *

_So, if you guys can't all ready figure out the Civil War Questline isn't quite itself in my hands. I made it more like a real war where positions are constantly changing and someone can't just disappear for several months in game. I Have a habit of joining one of the civil war sides doing the first quest and then disappearing... Anyway, do you guys have questions, concerns, ideas? I'd love to hear them! _

_Please review/follow/fave and share with friends. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Erin slipped back into Windhelm, trying to conceal her presence to others as she passed into the Stone Quarter. The steady beat of the smiths almost mimicked bells – a herald that she had little love for. To her, bells signaled doom or a bad omen. Men were rallied when a bell was rung, bells signaled the return of men when there was no room for celebration in the hearts of those who has fought and survived. The only sound she wished to hear when war or battle came was silence for it seemed the most fitting.

"Why it's been a long time since we've seen you around here," A bright voice greeted. Erin looked up to the see the smith's assistant, Hermir, grinning up at her as she forged a rod of steel. From his place behind the workbench, Oengul smiled faintly. "What brings you down here, Lady Erin?"

"Ah, just thinking, Hermir," Erin answered with a shake of her head. Hermir's countenance fell and she continued hammering the white-hot steel. "And how fares life for you? You must be terribly busy with the war and all."

"Oh, but it's all for the jarl and his men," Hermir laughed brightly as she cooled the rod. She stepped back, looking up to the sky. "I kind of envy you; you get to work so closely with him… It must be great."

Erin refrained from laughing; the bright eyed girl had quite the crush on Ulfric. Hermir, it seemed, admired Ulfric to the point of where many would assume it's pointless or silly.

"Let me say this, he can be rather… Difficult," and from the corner, she heard Oengul snort down at the workbench. Hermir blinked like a confused, moonstruck animal.

"Hermir, lass, watch that steel, if you let it sit -," Oengul intervened, and Erin heard the slight hint of playfulness in his voice. She smiled over at him whilst Hermir fumbled with the steel rod.

"Ah, I'm sorry – oh so very sorry!" Hermir yelped as she placed the rod back into the soldering depths of the forge. Oengul chuckled, shaking his head while Erin walked over to his side, keeping a close eye on Hermir.

"Silly lass, that one – it seems each time she gets talking to you, she sort of... wanders," Oengul commented, looking down at the newly shaped iron armor. "Where are you off to these new few days?"

Erin blinked, wide eyed. "Pardon?"

The smith chuckled once again, "I know that the jarl keeps you as busy as his own housecarl. So, if you don't mind me asking, where are you off to?"

"Riften – we recently lost it," She kept her voice low and Oengul frowned, tapping the sides of the armor. "A messenger came in earlier scared out of his hide and said we lost it. Some of my sources say that Maven Black-Briar has been put in charge."

"Well, let the family that all ready own it, own it, I say. Then again," He positioned his hammer over the last dent in the armor and rapped the hammer hard on the surface so much that Erin's ears rang. "They never did support the Stormcloaks…"

"No, they never have, Maven has been cozying up to the Thalmor for years now."

"Shame," Oengul eyed his work and Erin saw few flaws in the armor, yet the smith continued to hammer out tiny dents. Her beast hated the sound of steel, it hissed and paced anxiously. "But that's why the Jarl keeps you around." She cocked and eyebrow and Oengul chuckled. "You seem to whip everything back into shape usually."

"_Usually_, not always,"

The smith quickly changed the subject at the sharp edge of her voice. He straightened, hanging the armor on a hook beside the workbench. "You should let me take a look at your armor one of these days. I've heard it came from High Rock?"

"Specially made by my father for me when I left home. It's enchanted, so-,"

Oengul waved the air, "I promise not to make it go up in flames, or have it look like a giant got a hold of it, all right – just feed a smith's curiosity?"

She smiled, nodding. "All right, I trust you Oengul."

"Good to hear, Lady Erin." The two glanced over at Hermir when they heard her cooing and whistling for a dog. Sitting beside the forge with Hermir was a large, shaggy dog with hazel eyes. Erin had seen that dog, it belonged to Thora. Something about the dog seemed a tad off, she reflected. "Hermir, stop playing with the dog and get back to work."

"Yes, sir," Hermir replied. Erin walked up to the dog, kneeling down to its level and stroking its head gently.

"Who are you?" Erin whispered suspiciously.

"_Nice to meet a fellow animal-lover,_" A short, accented voice replied in her mind. Under normal circumstances, a normal person might've screamed but seeing as this dog was similar to her beast, she saw no need. She gave him an apprehensive look and he wagged his tail. _"The name's Barbas and I've been watching you, Miss Erin." _

"_Me? Whatever for?"_ She mentally replied, standing and whistling for him. Barbas trailed after her. Then the gears of recognition clicked in her mind. _"Do not tell me Thora has gotten herself sworn to Clavicus Vile!" _

"_Relax, relax! Thora's fine; Vile didn't deem her worthy for his boon and she couldn't bring herself to kill little ole me." _Barbas snapped back with dark look. Erin was beside herself; Thora had a daedra following her around – a Daedric Prince's pet, no doubt!

"_So, you decided to follow her around?" _

"_Well, that or wait until Vile has cranial rectal inversion… This may take a few centuries, but hey! I'm immortal!" _

"_Do you have any idea what people would think of her if they knew you were with her?" _

"_That's why I look like this – I pass off as a harmless, cute dog. Kids love me, adults give me a bone, and Thora is completely safe." _

"_So, why have you decided to speak to me then, Barbas?" _The dog stopped at the base of the steps near the Palace of Kings. His hazel eyes flicked to the doors when Brunwulf slid out, clearly perturbed.

"_I can sense her… And I know why,_" Barbas said and Erin's beast stirred angrily. _"Relax, whiskers, I'm not going to hurt your master._" He let out a warning growl and her beast shrunk back. _"Thora… Thora isn't what you think she might be, or even what your little Bear Jarl thinks either. She's related to what you guys think she is…" _

"_What does Ulfric think she is?" _

"_Dragon- something… I had a bone, a rather tasty bone - I wasn't paying much attention. Bear-Hat thought the jarl was a liar and long story short, they think she's some sort of powerful god, kinda like Vile." _

"_Well, Barbas, I want you to keep listening in on conversations then and don't breath a word of this to Thora – she's all ready busy enough as it is." _

"_Oh yeah – wait a moment, whiskers._" Erin eyed the dog as he watched a nearby guard pass them. _"Our little Thora is looking for her brother as well, so you might want to help her with something…" _

Erin stood, dusting the snow from her trouser legs. _"Can Thora understand you?" _

"_Sort of – she doesn't have Whiskers here, or even a powerful enough aura for me to latch onto." _

She frowned at the use of the nickname once again, _"Why Whiskers?" _

Barbas barked, _"Because, it's better than calling you Cotton-Paws or Ring-Tail!" _

The daedra ran off, bumping past a guard when they opened the door. Erin hurried after the guard and back inside where she saw Thora sitting beside Ralof and Avitus – the three conversing over a stack of books Thora had in front of her.

"So, you're brother was with you in Helgen?" Avitus asked as Erin watched Barbas place his head in his mistress's lap. Thora smiled and patted the hound's head gently while she passed a book to Ralof, who placed in the ever growing pile beside him. "Do you know where he went?"

"Leif said he wanted to join Ulfric's ranks, and that's why I came here, otherwise I would've gone back home to Ivarstead," Thora answered in a dull tone as her fingers flitted over book pages. "I know he got out, because a courier gave me a letter when he was in Markarth. I just don't know how he got out seeing as he vanished after that dragon nearly killed Ralof and me."

"Maybe Hadvar found him," Ralof murmured and Thora scowled in his direction. Erin silently slipped behind Avitus, placing her hands on his shoulders. His muscles tightened beneath her touch, and his presence probed hers for a moment until it pulled away, "Ah, Lady Erin!" The soldier gave her a nod of his head and she smiled at the Nord soldier.

Thora's lips became a thin line. "I would love it if my brother would come back all ready."

"Leif will come back, lass," Ralof assured her, gently pushing on her head with one hand. She yelped and smacked Ralof with her book. The Nord laughed, guarding her books with his forearm. Erin's smile fell when she felt Avitus' head against her chest, and she looked down into his amber eyes.

"You needed me?" Avitus whispered through the play fighting of the two Nords across from them. Erin dropped a kiss onto his forehead before sliding her hands off of his shoulders. He followed her back into the main corridor across from the war room, and leaned against the archway. "Mother, what is wrong?"

"We leave for the Rift in the morning," Erin stated firmly and Avitus nodded. "Also, bring the medallion of thieves. We're going to need it along with one of my rings."

"Are you sure that bribing Mercer with shiny objects is the way to go?"

Erin shook her head, truly not knowing if Mercer would benefit from one of her Father's rings. She had no use of them, and surely enchanting them would be little use to someone like herself or even anyone she knew.

"I have no idea honestly. The last time I gave one of my father's rings to Mercer, he was more than happy to take it off my hands. But I don't know if trying to blackmail the Black-Briars will be enough for one little ring…"

Avitus chuckled nervously, "Did you say, _blackmail_ the Black-Briars?"

"I did, why?"

Her son fidgeted, frowning. "My mother has officially lost her mind if she thinks that blackmailing the Black-Briars will succeed."

"Avitus, we do this for the Stormcloaks, not because I want to."

"I know that you would not openly blackmail anyone, but really? The Black-Briars have the Thieves Guild _and_ the Dark Brotherhood under their thumb. Maven may be gusty enough to summon an assassin on you."

"However, if she does – she would be going against me. I have the Thieves Guild in my pocket as well as several mage assassins that would _love_ to get their hands on Dark Brotherhood lackeys."

"Let me guess, High Rock assassins?"

Erin nodded, smirking wryly. "The personal ones to my father serve me as well. And ever since my mother's death, they have been dying to get their hands on the Skyrim group of Dark Brotherhood assassins."

Avitus clearly became crestfallen at the mention of his late grandmother, Belladonna. She reached up, patting his shoulder gently. "Little one, be ready in the morning, all right?"

"Yes, Mother," Avitus said quietly.

~.~.~

Riften, City of Thieves. This city was one formed from hazy skies and people far more curious what was in your pockets that what who you were. That was not to say that there weren't kind, noble souls amongst the people of Riften, they were simply few and far between. The city was formed of wood plumed by rain, and some of it rotten to the point where rats could use it for homes.

Erin had walked these streets, luckily, under the watchful eye of the previous Guildmaster once before. Now Gallus was long gone and Mercer put in his place. She looked at her reflection in the murky, green-grey water that flowed into Riften from Lake Honrich. Her eyes nearly matched the water's aside from the slight unnatural veins of green that her beast had given unto her. She swept back strands of raven hair, a failed attempt at keeping it out of her eyes.

"The Ratway is where the Ragged Flagon is, right?" Avitus asked as he stepped down the stairs to be by her side. She saw his reflection in the water, seeing that he indeed bore certain likenesses to herself. His amber eyes narrowed and he gave her a nudge, spooking her. She tore her gaze from the reflection to look at him.

She smoothed down her overcoat and sighed, "Yes, yes it is. I apologize, little love." She said in a low voice. Avitus' features became a slight smirk before morphing back into a neutral mask.

They ventured on the low boardwalk to a wrought iron gate. A doorway led them to an arched hallway of stone, an escape route at one time, stones that were older and water worn that they were covered in a thin layer of grime. Tunnels of swarming darkness caused her beast to hiss with neck hairs upon end. She agreed with her beast, the Ratway was one of the few places she could go without visiting again unless it was a blue moon.

They eventually reached the Ragged Flagon, home of the Thieves Guild – only to be greeted by a burly man that blocked every movement they made. Erin could have thrown a man like him across the room with a mere flick of her hand had she been feeling up to it.

"Dirge, back down," A nasally voice shouted from across the room. From a round table came a Breton man with a shaven head and a face that appeared to be beaten in a few too many times. However, his eyes could lie to someone without trained eyes. For a brief moment, they appeared kind, gentlemanly – the eyes not belonging to a thief. But in the background, there were hints of darkness that Erin could see faintly. "And who have we got here? Well, if it isn't the Lady Erin!"

She smiled at the Breton thief, "It is good to see you as well, Delvin."

"Here for Mercer?" Delvin asked, leading them past Dirge.

"If he's available, of course. Knowing this Guild, even someone like Mercer must have to run above ground every once in a while." Delvin cast a look of uncertainty at her, and he stopped before a table, searching for a key. She gestured to the Flagon and the Breton's hand paused over his key. "Delvin, I mean no disrespect but this place has lost her luster."

"Aye, it has…" He shook his head and motioned for her to follow him. He led her to a closet in an enclosed space. Abruptly, he turned to Avitus, causing the boy to jump. "You, stay here." He pointed to the Flagon, and then he pointed to an Imperial woman leaning on the counter talking to Vekel. "Vex will keep you company..."

Avitus nodded and Erin fell into step with Delvin as he led her to the Cistern – an open circular room that sat in the lowest regions of the Ratway that prohibited one from hearing over the roars of the waterfalls that tumbled down from large mouths on the sides of the room. Erin recalled the last time she had been in this room; it was a time when the Guild sat as one of the most revered guilds in all of Skyrim. Under Gallus, the Ratway was not a pit of chaos, but rather a well managed of thieves that could steal a gem from under a jarl's nose if deemed necessary. Though, the desk of the Guildmaster still sat in its corner, untouched by time and the water.

And for a moment, she thought she saw Gallus leaning over a business ledger in the far corner of the room. As she neared, she saw shaggy grey hair covering hardened pieces of jade for eyes. A scarred hand rose, scratching the shaggy hair, mussing it further.

"If this is about that shill job, Esmeralda, I swear by the Divines – I will skin you," Mercer growled, not averting his gaze from the ledger. Delvin cleared his throat noisily and Mercer glanced up. He was a stern faced man, and his eyes reminded her of her father's – cold and militaristic. "Who let her in?"

"I did," Delvin said with pride. "She says she has business with you, so I let her in. Gallus let her walk freely, Mercer."

"I'm_ not_ Gallus, am I Delvin? She is not welcome here," Mercer countered. Erin cocked an eyebrow, finding the two Breton men squabbling rather interesting to behold. Delvin was a tad shorter than Mercer, but far stockier. Mercer, however, had eyes that bore into one's skull, into one's soul without much effort and though Delvin had known Mercer for a long time – at least to Erin's knowledge – he seemed to back away. The Breton Guildmaster turned to her and she chuckled, shaking her head. "What would a woman like you need of my services, huh?"

Erin dug out a pouch at her hip, holding within one of her father's rings and a small amount of gold. Mercer physically perked up at the showing of the pouch.

"I have things you want, Mercer, and I am in need of your services," Erin stated with a sly smile. He attempted to take it from her, but she snatched it back to her side. "Ah, my side first. I need your Guild to find information for a few people for me."

Mercer's eyes flicked down to his outstretched hand, which she dropped the pouch onto. His fingers rubbed the velvet for a moment before a crease came to his brow. He opened the pouch and dug out the ring.

"What is this?" Mercer asked. Erin leaned forward onto the desk, taking it from the man's fingers. She smoothed over the gold ring in her palm. He leaned forward, eyes curious like a child's. Thieves were very unlike mages or warriors; they found joy in objects that glitter. They could care less if the world was burning, so long as there were people with full pockets and safes for pillaging. Mercer's eyes reflected such a lust for the object in her hand.

"This; this is one of my father's rings," Erin told him, which made Mercer's gaze flip up to her face. "You know who my father is, Frey."

"Yes, Mordred Ashing – how could I not?" The Guildmaster took the ring, but she closed her fingers around it. "Do not bait me, woman."

Erin smiled - a seductive, dark smile that made her beast smile wickedly as well. She leaned forward more so that her voice could only be heard by him. "Do we have an accord?"

"Give me the ring first."

And with those words, Erin dropped the ring back into Mercer's hand so that she could drop back onto the ground. The Breton counted out the coin into his hand before placing in a pocket on the band that crossed his chest.

"So, what do you need of me?" He asked after a long while silence. Erin tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, shifting her weight back onto her heels.

"I need you to find information about Sibbi Black-Briar," Mercer froze up, blinking in slight shock but she continued. "And find any information about a man named Mundus."

He mouthed the name with a look of utter confusion. "You are asking us to dig up dirt on our biggest patron's son. Are you mad?"

"No more than you, Mercer." Erin heard him snort, and he dug around in his desk. "But I would not come to you if did not have good reason. The Imperials control the Rift, something that my jarl cannot leave idle. I know that you hate politics, but I cannot think of anyone better to go behind Maven's back."

"If she finds out it was us, she will kill us… We let information slip once and Maven sent a Dark Brotherhood bloodhound after one of our own," Mercer suddenly became taken aback, his jade eyes darkening. Erin walked around the desk, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. She shared a look of silent pity with him before the sternness returned to his eyes. "If we do this for you, you will open doors for us in Windhelm?"

"Yes and there will be a good amount of coin for you, as well," She released his shoulder when he turned. "Mercer, I hate to ask this, but… If you see a horse that is pale in your searches, contact me."

"Why?"

She shook her head, "Let me try this, has anything strange been going on above ground?"

The Guildmaster hummed, bracing a hand on the desk. "A man that 'shared' a horse with Sibbi went missing nearly a week ago. I had Vex look into it and she only found missing papers and dead men."

"A horse? What did it look like?"

"Palomino, stallion – a horse someone would pay a pretty price for."

Erin connected the horse to the Rift attack – the messenger had mentioned a palomino horse without a rider. She went silent, tapping her fingers on her hip. Her mind felt stretched, yet she could not place her finger on why.

"What are you thinking about?" Mercer inquired, studying her. She motioned him away and he gripped her arm, keeping her held in place. At first, the grip felt tighter than when Ulfric had grabbed her once before. His knuckles paled and she gently placed her fingers on his chest, giving him a tiny push. "Erin…. Speak, now."

"That horse… That horse is connected to the Rift being captured," She whispered. "Forget I said anything."

"No, we've been asked by Maven to get that horse back. We need to know where it went," Erin raised a finger, hushing him as a presence shifted around her. She flicked her gaze back toward the Flagon and Mercer peeked around her. "Delvin, Niruin, follow me."

The Guild members stalked after Mercer and Erin ran past him, which drew the old Breton into a sprint after her. He grabbed her shoulder, holding her back before she burst into the Flagon. She could feel it – the heavy, crushing presence of the Thu'um bearing its weight upon her chest. Mercer crept along the edge of the closet, poking his head around the corner before snapping back when an amber feathered arrow notched itself into the wood on the side.

"Son of a-," Mercer hissed as his hand curled around the arrow. Erin pulled his hand back when the sizzle of skin alerted her. The Breton's hand was red and hissed quietly. Poison. She could smell it. "Damn it."

"Delvin, I need to conjure a shield. Could you possibly get closer to whatever is in the room?" Erin whispered, her fingers beginning to tingle with magic. Delvin shot Mercer a look, who shrugged.

"Come out, Frey!" A raspy voice shouted.

"Let go of me, you bastard!" Esmeralda's shrill voice shrieked. Mercer groaned, shaking his head. Erin heard Avitus trying to speak to the other voice in the room, but a voice shook the earth, unsettling Erin a great deal. "Mercer, get out here!"

Erin looked to Delvin, and she crept along the edge, hoping that her beast's magic would protect her against the Thu'um. She created a triangle with her hands, forming a glyph in front of her that twisted like a cog in a clock until the Daedric symbol glowed with pale blue light. Upon releasing the rune, her body shuddered, heart slowing, and vision narrowing just as a gold wall erupted before her.

And as she thought, a thundering boom rattled the room that sent objects flying in every direction and cracked her shield. Mercer and Niruin skidded beside her while Delvin slinked in the shadows around the room.

"This doesn't look very sturdy," Niruin commented thoughtfully. Erin took a deep breath, regaining her senses. "Is this the best you Bretons can do?"

"Well, I would love for to try to conjure a Magister's seal, _elf,_" Erin hissed and Niruin glared at her. The Wood Elf notched an arrow as he moved along the wall to shoot the man that Delvin was moving toward. She could barely see the elf disappear into the shadows, which wasn't too far away. How could she be so blind? "I apologize for snapping at him, Mercer."

"You can't help it – you Magisters are like little dolls. Honestly, if High Rock wanted better protection they should use assassins or even warriors, not little glass dolls like the lot of you," Mercer replied with a shake of his head. "Then again, if High Rock was run my way, there wouldn't be the consistent political bickering and mindless fights amongst nobles."

"But that is the entertaining part," Erin laughed humorlessly as she leaned back against the grimy stone. Mercer shot her a dirty look before squatting down in the shadows. He was a hunter, an experienced hunter amongst pups. The black leather armor of the Guild officials drank in the shadows, thus covering their wearer in a sea of black. Her eyes could only see the blur of the Dwarven sword at his hip and his hair. "You must admit, this isn't one of my finest."

"Wasn't it you that could stop a blast of fire from a blazing daedra?"

"Hardly, I am out of practice. Pycelle was the one who stopped Merhunes Dagon from crushing Martin…"

"Ah, the infamous Pycelle. A Magister Royal, if memory serves."

"You have a good memory…"

"Got him!" Esmeralda's voice called. Erin waved her hand, lowering the gold shield.

Several people sat on top of a Nord warrior dressed in olive green armor with his weapons precariously scattered across the Flagon. Dirge and Delvin had the Nord pinned down with his face against the floor. He was cursing them, but few could be heard through the floor and Delvin's hand pressing his face harder into the ground.

Mercer tapped Delvin's hand away, allowing the Nord to raise his head. He was rather young with hair a pale blonde and fiery eyes. Her beast growled, and in return an unfamiliar growl shook her soul. She curled behind Mercer's shadow, trying to avoid the deadly gaze that the Nord was throwing at her.

"You come in here – disrupt the peace of my Guild, threaten one of my officers, and then throw some funny magic at us. Do you honestly expect me to greet you warmly?" Mercer's voice dropped to an icy tone as he nudged the Nord's face with his boot.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Half-elf," The Nord sneered, eyes flashing darkly.

Mercer kneeled down, taking the young man's face in one hand and whispered low, "Do not play coy with me, boy… If you run, we will find you, if you fight us, we will outwit you, and if you wish to die…" The Breton rogue smirked with a dry chuckle. "Well, we'll just follow you to the grave. Now, tell me why you were looking for me."

"I'm looking for a woman, a dark haired one…"

Erin's blood chilled and she took a breath, yet Mercer guarded the man's view of her with his back. She had no idea why Mercer was protecting her. Perhaps he was curious? It would certainly sound like something Mercer would do.

"Why?"

"I have to give her something," The man squirmed yet the two men did not yield. Mercer stood, letting out a whistle. Delvin and Dirge removed themselves from the Nord, who stood, dusting off his green armor. The man's eyes fell directly on her, an icy gaze that made her unmovable. The power matched nothing in this world; he was a swirling puzzle of magical auras that she could not pick apart. He walked up to her, and dropped into her hand that had seemingly slipped out of her control.

The man stalked off, out of the Flagon without a word. Erin numbly opened the letter, trying to cast aside the fear that burned inside of her heart. The letter's penmanship was graceful, almost unreal to anything she had seen before.

_-L _

_News has reached us of your recent slip up in the Rift. Perhaps we could meet and discuss any arrangement to decide territories. If you decide to come, find us in High Rock in the place where it all started. If not, time will surely repeat itself. _

_-E _

The note nearly fluttered out of her hand. Her throat constricted with a body so tight that one could have mistaken her for a tree. If one asked you to either run off to High Rock or let one fall into heartache and depression once again. What would you choose? One would be torn. Erin admitted to herself that she was a frightened woman; afraid to speak her mind, but neither was she reckless. Memories of years before hit her.

A young woman sat beside a large bed, holding a hand too large for her own. The man looked to be once strong with a noble face and keen eyes. Now, he looked far from the man he once was. He was gaunt, his hair white, and eyes losing their keen glow.

"He will return, I promise you," The woman whispered, running her thumb across the man's hand.

The man harrumphed but it turned into a cough. "Do not lie to me – if Ulfric is gone then he is gone."

"Please don't say that! Ulfric swore to me he would return!" The woman's chest rose in withheld sobs. The man smiled softly, tightening his hold around her hand.

"My dear, wake me if he comes," The man's eyes fluttered shut, drawing a silent breath.

Erin shut her eyes, trying to quell the rising sadness in her chest. She tightened her hands into fists, thinking of what she could do. She shifted around, trying to think.

"May I ask who sent you the letter?" Mercer asked, his fingers pulling at the edge of the note. She tightened her grip on it. Her blood became ignited with fire, her emotions wild as she thought her choices. "Woman, give me the letter."

"Mercer, knock it off," Vex piped from Erin's left. Against her soul, she felt a warm presence, which she let into her mind. Clearly, she could see Avitus' in her mind.

"_Who sent the letter?" _He asked in her mind.

"_Avitus, you cannot say anything," _Erin warned back. Her son's amber eyes blinked in response. _"Elenwen… Elenwen sent me this letter._"

* * *

_Ahh, the Thieves Guild - one of my favorite quest lines and groups in Skyrim. I know many people hate Mercer Frey, which I do sorta, but the man has gotta have a heart... Somewhere, even if it might be a little bit hardened, it's there. But, I really loved writing Barbas, I wish we could talk to the Daedra more honestly - some of them make me laugh - Barbas and Sheogorath mainly. _

_If you have questions, ideas, or just thoughts - please tell me in a review I'd be happy to answer! _

_As always, fave, follow, and review and share if you want. _

_Until next time _

_-Princess _


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

* * *

The Direnni Tower… One of the oldest towers in Tamriel. It reached high into the sky, ebony glass shimmering in the midday sun with veins of green and brown as Erin approached the stairs. Her gut was twisting painfully at the thought of this tower, what lie in its depths and what people lived within. Guards wearing cloaks of dark, emerald green and scaled mail of ivory stopped her with the unsheathing of their swords before her. Her beast growled, shaking the air with its voice when they tested her with their own minds. One sheathed his sword, flicking open his visor.

"State your business," The guard said sharply. Erin subdued her beast as it dug in its heels, not wanting to enter the tower. She understood her beast's pain, she did not wish to enter, but Elenwen had asked, no demanded it of her to come. Erin felt the twin guard's sword jab at her side. She tucked her hands into her long sleeves.

"I wish to speak with a Thalmor agent who has entered the premise," Erin replied in a curt tone, holding her gaze with the guard's.

The guard let out a hum, but grabbed the ring handle of the Direnni Tower, ushering her inside. Her eyes flicked to the door, engravings of the beginning of the Direnni Council and the Magisters were present. Her beast growled weakly, and Erin hushed it. Ceilings climbed high with the heavy presence of varying magic in the air. It would have driven any mage wild with power's lust. She could hear muffled voices of people upon the higher levels of the tower, and she pulled her presence away until it was a minuscule dot amongst the thousands swimming in her mind. She found a secluded door hidden alongside the main entrance to the meeting hall, and slipped inside.

_The Nine keep me when I come down there,_ Erin thought, snapping her fingers to summon candlelight. It was dark in the descending hallway as she closed the door. The pitch made her remember… Made her remember her father's honeyed words in her ear as a woman clasped her hands into chains, she remembered her beast, pitiful and beaten trying to gasp for breath. _"Please Father, please!" _Her young voice had cried when they dragged her down these steps. Tears welled in her eyes and she closed her eyes tightly – she would not cry.

The orb of light hung in her vision until she came to the end of the stairwell to a slab of engraved obsidian depicting a mage, glowing with energy, absorbing the power from a creature that greatly resembled a werewolf. She pressed her hand to the slab and whispered, _We are unbent, unbroken, and unyielding. _The slab hissed, opening like the maw of a dragon before her. A pale, milk white room stood before with Elenwen in clear view, staring up at a body, hanging by its wrists from the middle of two pillars. She halted before entering… The walls, the ceiling, it reminded her of the vision her beast had shown her. Everything was in perfect detail.

But the body, her beast pointed out. Erin looked at it while entering the room. The body was a young girl, no older than five or six; tanned skin weeping blood, her scalp matted with dirt, and her white gown was torn to shreds. Erin cringed at the scent of blood and death, fearing that her stomach would turn.

"Pity how your people make warriors," Elenwen commented thoughtfully. "She was young, and probably belonged to a nobleman."

Erin grimaced, swallowing the rising bile in her throat. "Yes, most girls are. I was, my mother was, even a few other Magisters were," She said, turning to the direct opposite to the girl. Chained to the floor was a Fire Saber – the beast that only Magister Royal Pycelle could control. "I have come as you asked, Elenwen. Tell me why you called for me."

Elenwen's gold eyes watched her curiously like a cat perched upon a wall. "Why to discuss the civil war, little cat," The Altmer answered. There was a hint of smugness in her voice that made Erin's beast growl. Erin cocked an eyebrow and Elenwen continued, "Your Jarl seems to be hell-bent on winning this war. Now, you know that we Aldmeri do not care who wins this war, because either way…"

"Skyrim is not yours to control, Elenwen," Erin cut her off, making the elf scowl. She reminded Erin of another Altmer she knew, almost just as pompous too. "Skyrim is her own country, just as Cyrodiil is its own and High Rock is. Yet it seems that you elves can't seem to stop with your little war campaign."

"Awfully harsh words for one that doesn't care for war," Elenwen folded her hands behind her back, walking underneath the girl's dangling legs without getting a drop of ruddy blood on her black and gold robes. Erin shifted uneasily as she watched Elenwen. "My birds tell me that you called this war… _mundane._"

"Because that is what it is compared to the might of you _elves_."

Elenwen scoffed lightly, gold eyes shining brightly in the shadows like brilliant stars. "You fear us when you yourself are a creature created for killing mages?"

Erin's heart stopped, yes a Magister was a mage killer, but she was like a rough diamond compared to the polished ones that left this great room. Her beast hissed, black hair rising up on end like a wild broom. She chewed the inside of her cheek, calming her nerves.

"I never said I feared you," She managed through her fear. "If you wished to attack my home or Skyrim, I will not hesitate in wiping out every one of your mages."

"Oh a threat," Elenwen laughed at her. "Am I supposed to be scared by a little girl and her pet cat?"

"This _little girl_ could send you to Oblivion, elf," Erin felt a stir in her blood, an unwelcomed and foreign one that made her skin crawl. Her guards were dropping; everything was dropping fast because of her fear. _A Magister knows how to control their emotions, control yourself, Erin,_ She repeated to herself over and over again while looking in Elenwen's eyes. Did Elenwen sense her fear? Was she sure that Erin was losing control of herself? "If you do not leave Skyrim, I will not give your people quarter."

Elenwen raised her hand up, palm flat, and a bolt of lightning raced out and Erin threw up a meager shield to block it. Her heart lugged, making her nearly gasp for air. She had not come to this place expecting to be fighting a Thalmor. Her body was not able to handle it; no she could not handle fighting her. Not with her beast screaming and growling like a crazed creature.

"Only one of us will leave, _Nariel,_" Her beast roared in her mind and she nearly screamed because of the high rise in magic presence.

Elenwen's lightning darted out at her once more like a snake bite, and Erin raised a glowing shield. Her fingers glowed with Daedric letters spelling out thunder with lavender backgrounds and twisting tumbler locks. She stepped into Elenwen's view and a clap of thunder shot across the room as lightning spilled from her hands. Her head became dizzy for a moment, but she shook her head. No, not now she thought. Elenwen's ward guarded her from the lavender bolt. Erin allowed the lightning spell to come to her fingers once more, but she stopped the twisting rune on her left hand and it changed to the color of emeralds. She formed the lightning in her hands, spinning together the green and lavender despite the pain shooting up her back. When the lightning left her hands, her beast roared in defiance, and she fell to the floor. The lightning tackled Elenwen to the floor, she screamed. Falling to the floor, she held her head in her hands trying to stop the rising pain in her body.

Elenwen's breathy voice came to her ears, "Yes, you know what you are, Magister. A beast, a mere heathen compared to us."

Elenwen's boots clicked on the floor above her head, meaning she had been able to stand. Her clicks were uneven, which told Erin she had hit her with her lightning. A pleased sense filled her heart. Looking up, she saw the Altmer hovering over her like a reaper, but all Erin could do was murmur, "You and I knew each other once…"

"Once, not anymore, I'm afraid," The elf said with mock sadness in her voice. Her beast roared and Erin screamed in pain as fire raced in her veins, igniting her bones into a sickening swirl of pain and heat. "What in the name-?"

Elenwen's boots darted away from her when Erin heard her beast's earth shaking growl _in her ears_. She looked up, vision blurry from pain, to see a grey and black mass standing above her. A mane of thick, black and grey scarred fur laid in her vision with paws the size of plates resting on either side of her. Her lungs felt weighted, her heart slowed, she was… slipping.

Erin touched Nariel's feet, whispering her name as her vision became swallowed whole by the darkness creeping upon her.

~.~.~

Avitus chewed the inside of his cheek as he allowed his magic to flow upon a wounded Stormcloak soldier. The Battle for the Jagged Crown had taken too long and taken many lives, Ulfric had murmured earlier that day. Nonetheless, the rebels had the Crown. He studied the wounds on the female soldier. There were cuts on her back the size of dragon fangs, blackened by fire and angry red from pain, and her cuirass was torn into shreds like the curtains in Wuunferth's room from his mother's cat.

"I'm sorry," Avitus whispered as the woman whimpered. He heard a man cry out behind him, he gritted his teeth when Ralof had to restrain him. He turned an eye back to see Thora's face aglow with the gold of Restoration magic. But that wasn't what bothered him.

That dog of hers was sitting at the door, staring at him. He locked gazes with the scruffy dog for a moment when the dog's eyes twinkled with a hint of human-like humor. The urge to stand up and shout that the dog was acting like a human was strong in Avitus, but he simply bowed his head, focusing back on the magic he had been taught by his mother.

The charred wounds that this woman had taken were caused by something strange. _"What did this?"_ he thought, fingers lightly touching the charred skin. The woman flinched, her body curling up tight in a ball.

"May I ask what did this?" Avitus asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. The woman's green eyes blinked up at him with a bewildered expression.

He saw her skin turn a ghostly shade of white, but she murmured into her arms, "A man, clad in Ebony armor, carrying a carved steel greatsword." She gasped when Avitus was forced to stitch up the wounds by hand. He hated doing it without numbing herbs, but she probably didn't feel the pain. She swallowed, continuing, "He simply spoke and fire engulfed everyone… It was… It was like the legends I heard as a child."

"Legends?" Avitus bit down on the black thread and tore it away from the woman's back. "What _legends?" _

"Are you touched in the head?" The Nord woman's eyes locked on his causing him to jump. She sat up abruptly, arms crossed over her chest, but her gaze still held on him. "The legend of the Dragonborn! You know, the one who has the body of a human but the soul of a dragon…" She paused, studying him, "You're an Imperial… No wonder."

"Hey! I'll have you know I have never been around my own kind. I'm not an arrogant ass like they are!" Avitus let out a huff, keeping his anger in check. "My mother never told me the story, that's all."

"Poor sod, you're missing out then," The woman smiled at him. "Well, you should look into the story. Most children your age know it by heart."

He hummed, watching the woman pull a shirt over her head to cover her wounds. When she stood, he stopped her and looked at the door, "Does the Jarl know?"

"Pfft, like he cares about a silly child's story. The Greybeards take in footpads every now and again, or so I hear. I think the Legion has got themselves a Dragonborn, but others say he may have just been trained like the Jarl was." She shrugged, picking up her steel battleaxe off of the floor. "Think what you like, boy."

Avitus scowled and sat back in his chair. The Nords had strange stories, he thought, but surely not as strange as some of the ones Brelyna had told him back at the College. He flicked out the long sleeves of his robes and fixed the skewed royal blue orb that pinned his sash on his shoulder. He heard the clicks on boots nearby, and he threw his hood over his head to obscure his Imperial features. But strangely, he heard the falling thuds of armor and weapons on the stone floor.

"Avitus," Ulfric's voice spooked him into turning around to face the Jarl. "Where is your mother?"

"Not here…?" Avitus answered, nervous. Ulfric's blue-green eyes fixated upon him with a thinning gaze. He cleared his throat and stood, far more nervous than he ever had been in his life. The Jarl had been a part of his life since he could remember, but still Avitus feared him more than any dragon, saber cat, or snow bear. He swallowed and finished his sentence, "She left for High Rock a month ago after we dealt with the Rift issue. I-I tried to stop her, but you know Mother."

Ulfric sighed, motioning for Avitus to follow him. He followed the Jarl up the steps from the barracks and once the door shut behind him, the man turned. Visions of him as a boy staring up at this bear of man made his heart skip anxiously in his chest. He never understood how his mother dealt with Ulfric considering they possessed similar presences.

"Erin ran off to High Rock… Care to enlighten me as to why?" Ulfric's voice became deadly curious, albeit careful in choosing his words as he spoke. Avitus felt a small sinking feeling in his stomach as he looked up at the Jarl, who had far more fear in his eyes than the young man had ever seen before. He paused; his mother had said that they had grown up together. Avitus shook his head a bit, turning to look up at the banners of the snarling bear settled upon a field of royal blue and gold.

Avitus' stomach clenched when he spoke, "Elenwen sent her a letter via a man, who seemed strange… But I have no idea why she hasn't returned." He dragged a hand across his eyes as stress built up in his chest. "She wouldn't go back for Grandfather, would she?"

Ulfric scoffed, which Avitus nearly considered to be bitter. "She hates Mordred; she would never go back to him after what happened."

"How can you be so sure?" Avitus fell into Ulfric's line of sight and his lips tightened into a small scowl. "How can you be so sure, Ulfric?"

"It is not for me to say," Came the murmured reply. His scowl deepened – what was the Jarl getting at? "I need for you to find your mother-,"

"Me? You're quite worried about her, so why don't you come with me to look?"

"I have responsibilities to attend to here."

"Where is the harm in looking for the woman you consider your friend?"

The Jarl frowned, and Avitus felt a soar of self-assurance. He had hit more than a few nerves, nerves that were untouched by the icy outer shell most Nords possessed. The Jarl stroked his beard in thought; eyes processing that were narrowed almost to a squint at the ground. There was a moment where Avitus saw the flicker of a strange emotion that he had never seen in Ulfric before, a certain softness that was there and gone before the young man could blink.

"Is she the only person that stood with you through all of the hell?" Avitus did not expect for the sentence to come out as a question, but it stopped Ulfric from staring at the stone floor.

"It is not for people to hear. Come, we will look around Windhelm," The Jarl said hurriedly as he pushed past a couple of guards that came in from outside. Avitus ran after Ulfric and his body became a dizzy mess when he stepped out into the freezing halls of Windhelm's streets. He had never tried to keep up with Ulfric, but he was beginning to see why his mother always walked with the Jarl holding onto his arm. Nothing slowed him down, not the cold or the people that moved aside. When they came to the stables, Ulfric stopped abruptly and Avitus skidded beside him.

"What is it?" Avitus asked in a low voice. Gradually, Avitus extended his presence to the outside reaches of Eastmarch, combing the land from the sulfur fields to the reaches near Winterhold. When they only found the occasional loose fringe-like magic belonging to a mage or the low thrum of typical people, he pulled it back with a release of breath.

"Anything?"

Avitus shook his head, his blood feeling colder than the wind and snow around them. He buried his face into his sash, thinking. His mother had run off to a place neither he nor Ulfric could reach. He felt a sticky, painful lump form in his throat.

"Erin told me when we were young that the Archmage can search anywhere in Tamriel for different persons. I have no idea if what she said was true, but if Savos…" Ulfric trailed off in a defeated voice. "What more can I do?"

"You can stay here like you said," Avitus whispered in a short voice. "It's hopeless, she's gone."

"She is not gone… I know that much."

"Then where in Oblivion is she? She told me she wouldn't be gone for long and yet she has been missing for a month! The sole reason the two of you are around each other is because cripples, bastards, and broken things have a nasty tendency to stick together! Without her," Avitus sunk back on his heels. "Without her, you are stuck. Galmar is all you have left."

"Not true," Ulfric replied with a shake of his head. "Yes, broken things stick together, and yes I _should_ go back to helping this rebellion. In truth, the men and women who fight in this war are broken, just as much as Erin and I."

"Then was I wrong? Was I wrong that the two of you are sometimes…?"

"Alone? Yes. For the longest time it was her and I. We…" The Jarl turned away, looking at the murky dark blue water of the river that flowed beneath the bridge. "I could be wrong."

"Wrong about what?"

"Something, _rabbit_. Nothing you need to worry over like an old woman."

"Rabbit? Truly, rabbit?"

Ulfric cast a smirk over his shoulder and walked up to him, giving his hair a playful ruffle. Avitus swatted his arm which made Ulfric chuckle. He accepted the gesture, but deep within his heart he felt the twinges of nagging concern. He wondered why Ulfric had not become louder than he had, why he remained mute through all of that. His mother used to say that Ulfric thought far more than some Nords did, and Avitus was beginning to see that. He tugged on the sash on his shoulder and he let out a long breath. As he walked back to Windhelm, he mulled over Ulfric's words about Archmage Savos and the College. He knew if he sent word to Mirabelle, she would not hesitate is searching for his mother, and Savos would probably follow – it truly depended on who was around the College. If Mirabelle could find his mother, what then? What could he do if she was trapped or injured? His throat tightened at the thought.

"_Hey! Watch it!" _A voice shouted in his mind. He froze up and looked around to find the voice. No one was in the square, everything except from a lone, shaggy hound. Avitus stared down at the hound, blinking at it, doe-eyed.

"Did you just talk?" Avitus asked in a hushed voice.

"_Did I just talk, yes, yes I did! __You think I'm weird? There are talking cat-men, dragons, and the occasional drunk around here. I ask again, you think I'm weird?"_ Barbas said, eyes flickering playfully. _"Name's Barbas, kid. Pleased to meet you. I came up to you because Whiskers is gone." _

"Whiskers?" The young man frowned, looking at the dog with narrowed amber eyes. "Who is Whiskers?"

"_Your... what is it? Mother? She is Whiskers, duh." _Barbas sat down and let out a bark. _"Look kiddo, I think I know who can help you find your mother." _

"I am _not_ getting involved with Daedric Princes!" His voice became a long hiss, and the dog whined. Avitus pinched the space between his eyes in worry. "Why do you want to help me anyway?"

"_Old Mora has got himself a champion again. Your mother used to know the guy… I think, Vile was really looped up on human idiocy that day. Anyway! This champion, whoever he is, is extremely dangerous." _

"Ok, yeah, I believe a Daedric Prince's pet."

"_Listen," _Barbas let out a growl. _"Find Azura's shrine – if you can find her, you'll find your mother." _

"_Why? Why Azura?" _Avitus answered, gaining control of his thoughts.

"_Trust me?" _

The Imperial crossed his arms over his chest, _"What do you think, mutt?" _

"_Hey, hey, watch it. If you don't believe me – fine. Be an idiot, I don't care." _

"_Daedric Princes don't give a damn about mortals anyway. They enjoy toying with people." _

"_Oi, who fed you these lies?" _

"_Books." _

Barbas' eyes narrowed and he trotted off, leaving Avitus to stand in the middle of the square. He shivered, feeling as though that dog had stared straight through him. He returned to the Palace of Kings to find Barbas staring at Siegfried in an almost intense staring match.

He skittered past them to his room, to feel the cool air hiss as he opened the door. His room was often dark, but one could see bookshelves huddled against one side of the small room beside a hearth that was decorated with various objects from his travels around Skyrim and his mother's time in High Rock.

Though he could not light candles with a snap of his fingers, he managed to light a few to cast shadows on the walls. The shadows were inelegant, long and stretched like ghosts. As he approached the hearth, he saw the flicker of an old medallion engraved with the eye of Winterhold and the other sash pin that he had carelessly tossed there. The orb was red, colored like blood and was set into an ebony backing. It had been a gift from Brelyna. Warmth began to spread across his skin; he missed her and J'zargo, and Onmund. He missed J'zargo and his pride about becoming the next Archmage, he missed Onmund's cautiousness, and he missed Brelyna turning him into cows or dogs. The sash orb looked like her eyes, the eyes that many Dunmer possessed but on her they were like fine garnets. A smile touched his face; he would send a letter to the gang when he had time.

"_If only Mother knew what was causing those power spikes," _He thought gravely, removing his sash. He tossed it on the bed, sighing. A thought hit him; he would send two letters to Winterhold – one to Mirabelle and the other to his friends. He threw open drawers, rummaging through several for paper and a quill. Gods, he was regretting not organizing anything ever. Once Avitus found them – though he spilled ink all over the floor – he began to write to Mirabelle and explained the situation at hand. He signed the bottom in his finest penmanship, though being young made it still come out sloppy. Setting aside Mirabelle's letter, he began to write to his friends.

Avitus sat back, folding his hands together and resting his chin on top of them in a prayer like fashion. He had only written halfway down the roll of paper when he sat back, and he simply stared at the page. Nothing came to him after that. He could only hear the faintest whisper through the stonework, the gentle clinking of freezing rain upon the window panes, and the clamor of the people in the hall. He couldn't tell them about the war and how it took more than its fair share of lives, he couldn't say how he saw some of the images of men dying underneath his magic still flickered in his mind at night, and he surely couldn't say that his mother had gone missing. No, he would have to pass off the illusion that everything was going quite well, when in truth they were slowly spiraling out of control.

A meow drew his gaze to the door and he could see the blush pink paws of Siegfried clawing at the bottom of the door. Grinning, Avitus opened the door for the fluffy cat and watched him curl up on his desk.

"Hey, Siegfried," Avitus said, rubbing the cat's back. The cat's eyes opened, blinking sleepily. "You miss Mother too?"

The cat yawned, stretching a paw onto the letter and smeared the black ink all over the paper. Avitus typically would have cursed the cat for being dumb, but he wasn't getting anywhere with that letter. He stroked the cat's ears, twirling the long white whiskers with his fingers. The more he thought about the College and his place back there, the more his heart started to ache.

* * *

_I'm super sorry for the lateness of this chapter, I had the world's biggest run of Writer's Block, but I got this to you all! Anyway, wanted to say a big thanks to the Ginei and Krikanlo for reviewing in the beginning, you two are amazing. _

_In this chapter, I wanted to get into Avitus seeing as he is Erin's son and he is a future Magister. I also wanted to finalyl showcase Erin's beast, Nariel, who has been making noise since the start. Those of you that have ever read/watched Game of Thrones and that series, there is a tip of the hat to Tyrion Lannister as well as the Martells. _

_Final Note: I have made a Tumblr for myself and if you want to follow me go to: www . flameangel24 . tumblr. com (without spaces). _

As always, please review/favorite/follow and thanks for reading! -Angel


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